Two Truths and a Lie
by Lady Henrietta
Summary: Post Crossroads Part II: Sometimes Leoben lies, but sometimes he tells the truth. Can Roslin and Adama's relationship survive the truth?
1. Escape

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.

Two Truths and a Lie

Chapter 1: Escape

The fleet was still trying to restore power as the sensors picked up Cylon activity. Admiral Adama had noticed as President Roslin looked ill for a moment before putting her glasses back on. "We need more time," Adama said to himself.

He then heard a radio message. "Apollo to _Galactica_. I have Starbuck out her. Repeat, I have Starbuck out here."

"Apollo, get your bird back here. What the hell are you doing out there? You left the military," the admiral reminded.

"Sir, I know it's hard to believe, but it's really Starbuck," Lee told him.

Adama sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes, not wanting to deal with that particular situation. "Then bring her back with you. We'll deal with this when you land."

"She has jump coordinates, sir," Lee added.

"Send them through," Adama responded. He looked at them along with Roslin.

"This is one of the craziest things I've ever heard. She's back from the dead and she has jump coordinates," he told the president.

Roslin looked over the coordinates carefully. "I think we should follow this one. The Cylons will be right on top of us at any moment."

He decided to trust her and the fleet followed the coordinates, leaving an empty nebula for the confused Cylons to find. Upon coming out of the jump, Roslin gripped the table. Adama caught her elbow and noticed how pale she looked. "Admiral, I'm not feeling- I mean I need to-"

Catching Tory's eye, he seemed to understand. "Take the president to the bathroom," he instructed, pointing to a door on one end of CIC.

The two women hastily left him and he looked over at Dee. "Lieutenant, scan the area for Cylon activity."

"None, sir. We've lost them for now," she relayed.

He was about to ask her to scan for the low-grade static that he had been hearing for the last couple of days when the phone rang. The admiral picked it up. "Adama. What's up, Chief? They're back? I'll be right down. I want to question both of them," he responded.

"So she's not a ghost after all," Tigh remarked.

Adama raised an eyebrow. "Ghost, not likely. Cylon? At the moment, I can't afford to hope for much else. Helo, CIC is yours."

"Aye, sir," the captain stated.

Tigh and Adama headed for the door as Tory appeared again, making her way toward them. "I'll take the president to Life Station."

"Good idea," Adama said with a nod.

They reached the docking bay with a security team. Lee had just exited his Viper. The other pilot pulled off her helmet, shaking loose her cropped blonde hair. The woman claiming to be Kara 'Starbuck' Thrace exited the Viper, grinning broadly at Lee. He only saw her, not his father, and definitely not the group of armed marines. The two embraced tightly.

"Kara, what- I mean how are you- you're alive!" Lee exclaimed.

"Someone has to save your sorry ass, Apollo," she retorted, smirking. Then she looked past Lee and saw the security team. "Lee, what's going on?"

He felt her stiffen in his arms and released her, turning abruptly. Adama and Tigh stepped ahead of the marines. "Mr. Adama, you've got a lot to answer for," Tigh commented.

"Dad, Colonel, it's Kara. What's with them?" Lee asked, gesturing toward the marines.

"We're taking her into custody. We need to know whether or not she's a Cylon," Adama responded.

As he stood close to the other two, he eyed Kara with piercing scrutiny, as if looking for some metal clue that would reveal her to be the enemy. "Sir, I can explain-"

"You can do that later. You're staying in the brig until I know for a fact who and what you are," Adama interjected.

"But you can't do that!" Lee protested.

Adama stood directly in front of his son, looking at him darkly through his glasses. "This is a matter of fleet security."

"But-" Lee felt twenty years younger, lost as to what should be said anymore.

"I'm putting you in the brig too," his father added.

Lee glared at Adama as the marines began to usher him over to the door. "What for?" he demanded.

"Insubordination," Adama seethed. As Kara and his son were led from the room, he turned toward Tigh. "Saul, I need you to head back to CIC."

Tigh nodded, but asked, "Where are you going?"

"I'll be in Life Station," the admiral answered.

"Another mess to fix?" Tigh asked.

"Something like that," Adama replied as they went their separate ways.

As Adama entered Life Station, he sought out Dr. Cottle first. The old doctor had just left a pilot with a broken leg as the admiral caught up to him. "How's the president?"

Cottle sighed and headed toward his desk. Then he handed the admiral a print-out of a few scans. "I figured you'd ask. It's not the cancer. I think it's a reaction to the diloxin. It's making her nauseous, but what I can't figure out is why she's dizzy. I'm still waiting on two more tests. Might be the chamalla."

Adama nodded, barely glancing at the print-outs. "Can I see her?"

The doctor pointed to a curtained area. "She's right over there. I think her aide went to find her a glass of water. Don't talk to long though, I gave her some pain medication and it might make her drowsy."

The admiral walked over to Roslin's bedside, sitting in a plastic green chair. Though her black suit jacket was draped over the end of the bed, she still wore the rest of her ensemble. Her hair had been moved to one side of the pillow as she dosed, and her glasses sat on the end table next to the bed. As he scooted closer, his foot brushed an empty yellow bucket. The sound of the plastic scraping across the floor woke her.

She blinked at him a moment before trying to sit up. "Did we escape?" she asked hoarsely.

He leaned forward to place a hand at her back so that she did not sit up too quickly. "Yes. The woman calling herself Kara Thrace was right. So far they haven't followed us."

Roslin nodded, but then quickly shut her eyes as the room began to spin. "Where's Tory?"

"Getting you a glass of water," Adama responded. "How are you feeling?"

She shot him a glare that would have sent Gaius Baltar running to the nearest airlock. "Pissed off, dizzy, and cold," she retorted, rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

Then she moved the covers back from the bed and pulled them around her as she remained in a sitting position. He handed her the suit jacket. She slipped in on, wearing it under the bed covers. "Better?" he inquired.

"No," she replied tersely. He began to glance at the other beds, hoping to borrow some blankets. "And I will not take anyone else's blankets so that they're cold while I'm not, Admiral."

He turned back to her, sighing heavily. _I have to fix this. Neither one of us can keep up with the never-ending situations if we're fighting_. "Laura, I know you're still mad at me for Baltar's trial, but there's something you need to know. It was the hardest decision I've ever had to make. It had to be that way though. We can't just dump the blame for everything on one man."

Instinctively she knew that he was right, but her anger at his perceived betrayal still lingered at the back of her throat. "We went through all that work on the prosecution to build a case," she began quietly, looking at the end of the bed. Then she faced him. "I was on a death list. _That man_ had my name on a death list and you let him go! What the frak were you thinking?"

"That Lee was right. I'm not excusing what he did to you, that I wanted to put him in the brig for, but he was right in saying that humanity's become a gang in some ways. Truth is that I wanted to airlock Baltar almost as much as you did, but then I realized what the trial had turned into: a personal vendetta. We're no better than the Cylons if we live off of personal vendettas," Adama tried to explain.

Tears pricked her eyes and though they moved no farther, he could see that the wall she had put up was beginning to crack. "That's easy for you to say, isn't it? You have life; I don't."

That simple statement sent a chill up his spine. He reached out to find one of her hands. Though it was still gripping the blankets, he enclosed one of his hands around it. "We all have our penance, don't we? Mine is that I'll survive to watch those I love suffer and die. I wish you could forgive me. I never meant to hurt you."

She was not expecting such a heartfelt, touching speech from him, and could not meet his eyes. Did that mean he loved her too? She tried not to let her mind wander in that direction. "You'll have to give me time, Admiral. I've got some thinking to do," she told him. Then she shivered. "Deities, why am I so cold?"

He had noticed that she was blinking not to counteract dizziness anymore, but to stay awake. "Why don't you rest for a while?"

"That's the first thing you've said all day that sounds like a good idea," she remarked, trying to blink away the sleepy haze creeping into her eyes as she grasped not only his hand, but his sleeve. "Cold."

Glancing around the room again for anything he could give her as an extra blanket, an odd thought suddenly struck him. _I haven't done this since high school, but it's better than letting her shiver because she's stubborn_, he resolved, unbuttoning his own uniform jacket. He stood, draping his jacket over her shoulders. "Better?"

She let go of the blankets to pull his jacket around her. The wool, plus the warmth felt wonderful. For a brief moment, she seemed content. Then she looked up at him with her eyebrow raised. "What is your crew going to think if they see you walking through the halls in just your tanks?"

"That I'm on my way to my quarters and very busy," he answered.

"I hope, for your sake that they buy it," she stated with a yawn. Laying back down, she asked him, "Where are Lee and Captain Thrace?"

"Actually they're in the brig," he explained.

"Fine with me." Her eyes closed as she rested her head on the pillow. "Bill, don't forget to let the dog out. He's been scratching at the door," Roslin mumbled before sleep claimed her again.


	2. Haze

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.

Chapter 2: Haze

His gaze lingered on her sleeping form for a moment. He stood and as he turned to leave, it took all his military practice not to jump, finding Dr. Cottle next to him. "She needs to rest," Cottle mentioned.

"We need to talk," the admiral said.

Cottle sighed. "I'll bet I know what this is about."

"She mumbled something about a dog," Adama mentioned.

Cottle took a long drag from his cigarette. "It's not the first time."

Adama raised an eyebrow. "How long has this been going on?"

"She's been hallucinating ever since she started taking that damned herb again," Cottle grumbled.

The admiral ran a hand through his hair. "But why did she tell me to let the dog out?"

Cottle looked over at Roslin's sleeping form and then back to Adama. "Did she ever tell you what he Cylons really did to her?"

In the pit of his stomach, Adama felt a wave of guilt, mixed with disappointment at being out of the loop yet again. "No."

"They gave her stronger stuff than chamalla. When the brain's under attack, sometimes it creates a series of images, makes new memories of a place it invents," the doctor explained.

"Did she do this after the Cylons were done with her?" Adama probed.

Cottle took his time answering. "Yes."

Adama sighed heavily. "I still don't understand."

"They tried to get answers from her, but her consciousness made up a place to hide. From what she's mumbled about it, the place sounds like a cabin that she shares with you and a dog. That's all I know," the doctor admitted.

Taking one last look at Roslin, Adama left Life Station and headed toward his quarters, passing by Tory as he went. No one questioned him about his missing uniform top, as if they were all too wrapped up in their own worlds to notice. He reached his quarters and quickly grabbed another top from the closet. Then he sauntered back to CIC.

Tigh nodded to him as he resumed his place down in the middle of the room. The rest of the admiral's shift passed without interruption. The Cylons seemed to have lost their trail. After taking one last look at the DRADIS, Adama turned to Tigh. "We're out of the woods for the moment, but they've been tracking us somehow. I want you to scan for any signal that looks suspicious."

"Yes, admiral," the colonel replied. He watched as his friend's shoulders sagged. "How were things in Life Station?"

Adama spoke, his gaze frozen on the viewscreen. "Things could've gone better."

"You know, Bill," Tigh began quietly, "you look like you could use some rack time. Why don't you call it a day?"

The other man contemplated the idea for a moment. "I'm not the only one who could use a rest," he mentioned, looking Tigh in the eye. Then he looked over at Captain Agathon. "Helo, it's yours."

"Yes, sir," Helo replied politely.

When Adama reached his quarters, he grabbed one of his last bottles of Ambrosia. He stopped, however, before pouring a glass, deciding instead to call Life Station. "I just discharged her. She's probably headed your way," Cottle answered.

"Thanks, Doc," the admiral responded, sitting on the couch and removing his glasses.

A few minutes later, he heard a familiar knock and stood to answer the door. "Madame President," he greeted as he opened the hatch.

She gave him a polite smile and he noticed that she held his uniform jacket draped over one arm. "Admiral."

"Can I get you something to drink?" he offered, gesturing to the Ambrosia.

"Yes, please," she responded, pacing for a moment instead of sitting. After he had poured her a glass, she spoke again. "I… thought it best to return this to you. Can't have your crew thinking that you go around working half-dressed."

He snorted. She handed him the jacket and he set it on the edge of his desk. "Thank you. Sit for a while. There are some things we should discuss."

She took the glass that he had poured her and at last seated herself on the couch. Then he joined her. She let a sip of the liquid burn down her throat before speaking. "It was supposed to be_ our_ decision. Once again, you made the decision for me regarding that frakker. Don't you think I'm capable to know my own mind?"

Sighing heavily, he set is glass down. "It's not about capability; it's about judgment. _Our_ judgment was clouded. I'm not asking you to overlook the stupidity of it all. We need to get past it though. We need to prove to what's left of humanity that we're not just a bunch of vengeful savages. If we airlock everyone who causes problems instead of using rationality, what does that say about our society? As I've said before, what makes us worth saving?"

As she paused to study him, she pondered his question. Why were they worth saving? What did it mean to survive anyway? She sat back and the answer came when she spied the jacket he had loaned her. Sliding her shoes off, she took another drink from her glass. Then she turned back to him. "We will be worth saving when it's about living instead of surviving."

He smiled at her and nodded as he took a sip of his drink. "Like we were able to do on New Caprica for the brief moment that it was."

"New Caprica, the blessing and the curse," she groaned. She found him scrutinizing her and spotted what could have been regret in his eyes. "What?"

"I never asked you about New Caprica, I should have," Adama admitted.

Roslin blinked and recalled how fuzzy things had been in Life Station. "What did Jack tell you?"

"Enough," he answered.

She set her drink down, folding her hands in her lap. "I said something in Life Station, didn't I?"

"You told me to let the dog out," he responded. "Cottle said it had something to do with what the Cylons did to you. Why didn't you tell me?"

Crossing her arms, she glared at him over the top of her glasses. "What exactly was I supposed to tell you? 'Bill, I spent half of the time you were gone thinking that I really did build the cabin because of the drugs the Cylons gave me.' I didn't want to make you feel any worse than you already did. Between the Bulldog incident and then the 'dance,' I didn't want you to feel guilty for anything else."

He gently reached for one of her hands. At first she stiffened, but then let him take her hand. "Tell me about this cabin," he requested with a kind smile.

"It was two stories with a kitchen and a bathroom. I lived there with you and a dog," she explained.

"What sort of dog?" he inquired.

She smiled, looking past his desk, as if following something with her eyes. "A big black dog with a heavy fur coat. You would walk in the door and he would tackle you, licking your face."

It had been years since he had a dog. Adama smiled as he imagined her dog. "He had a name, didn't he?"

"Yes. I kept trying to plant flowers, but he would always dig them up. When things bloomed, plants were all over the place like wildflowers. We ended up calling him 'Digger,'" she explained, leaning her head back on the couch.

"Were you still seeing things when the Cylons released you?" Adama questioned, moving closer to her.

She sighed. "I would have moments where I would think that I was in my garden, or in the cabin waiting for you to come home, but those would fade quickly. I saw more of it in dreams." For a moment, she studied her hands as she paused. "I kept seeing Digger though. The dog would follow me all over the camp. At first, it was a little disconcerting to know that the dog didn't exist, and yet there he was. But then having Digger with me helped me not to miss you as much while we were waiting for you to come back. I stopped seeing him after we were rescued."

He took a long gulp of his Ambrosia. "And you've started seeing him again, I take it?"

"When I started taking chamalla again, there he was. I didn't see him while I was at the trial though," she admitted, looking toward his rack. Then she faced him. "You probably think I'm as crazy as Baltar."

Adama shook his head and reached for her free hand. "Baltar's not taking chamalla. Therefore, since he doesn't take anything and he still has invisible friends, he's the crazy one," the admiral rationalized with a smirk.

Roslin giggled. "I like that analogy."

"Is the dog here now?" Adama inquired.

She nodded. "He's in your rack, stretching out to take up the whole thing. He used to do that at the cabin too. We'd be getting ready for bed, and the dog would be in the middle, stretched out. You would groan and shake your head, while I'd laugh and clap a few times to get Digger's attention. Those were better times…" she trailed off, remembering that what she had mentioned had only occurred for her, and only in her mind.

_So we've shared a bed in your recollection,_ he mused. Setting his drink down on the coffee table, he slid a hand under her chin. "I would've loved to share your cabin with you. Don't ever feel bad about what you've seen. They're memories to you, and that's what matters."

He let her go as she took a deep breath. Slowly she smiled back at him. _Why is life so cruel that we never get to set things right with those we love? There's got to be something I can do_, he thought to himself.

Suddenly she turned her head and he watched as her gaze trailed from the bedroom, to the living room, and to the couch just behind him. "He jumped onto the couch," she relayed.

"Was he allowed on the furniture before?" Adama probed.

"No, but that didn't stop him," she said wryly.

The dog then proceeded to sniff Adama, starting at the head. As he moved to the neck, the dog paused at where the brain stem was, lingering on a particular spot. Then he appeared to lick the back of Adama's head and jump down. Walking over to Roslin, he sat and placed his head in her lap.

"I suppose I should find guest quarters for the night. Tory suggested that I stay on Galactica for safety reasons, though I suspect that it had more to do with this mystery man she's been seeing," Roslin relayed.

Adama snorted. "Tory has a boyfriend? I would've been less surprised if you told me she was a Cylon."

Roslin laughed. "Stranger things have happened, I suppose."

Then she stood and Adama reached for the phone. "I'll see if there's any place open. If not, you're welcome to my bed. I'll just take the couch out here," he offered before calling.

She smirked and eyed him incredulously when he hung up the phone. "Is that your way of reviving the 'you're always welcome in one of my beds' offer? Still hoping I'll take you up on it?"

He grinned at her teasing, as he had when she had given him Blood Runs at Midnight. _A man can dream_. "Possibly."

Her lips curved into a mischievous smile. "Let's see, you've already loaned me your jacket. I suppose now you'll find a way to work your high school ring into this?"

Adama chuckled heartily. "And here I was under the impression that you didn't want me to offer my bed again."

"You're reading far too much into this, Admiral," she remarked, slipping her shoes back on and heading toward the door.

"Then stop leaving bread crumbs, Madame President," he countered with a wry grin, following her. He walked her to the guest quarters down the hall. Once he was sure that she was settled, he turned back toward his quarters for an attempt at a night's sleep.

(My thanks to carolann, Mariel3, Ceridwyn2, caramelapples, and max72 for reviewing)

(A/N: The idea of the brain creating a place for the consciousness to hide as a defense mechanism is partly from the episode, "Frame of Mind" from Star Trek TNG)


	3. The confrontation

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.

Chapter 3: The confrontation

Adama woke, knowing that he would have to talk to the woman calling herself Kara. Before ordering coffee, he placed a call to the guest quarters. Roslin answeredthe ringing phone. "Hello?"

"Madame President, I was wondering if you'd like to join me for coffee," he invited. "I have a few things scheduled that I thought we should discuss."

She smiled on her end. "I'll be right there, Admiral."

A few minutes later, he heard a knock at his door. It was Jaffries with a pot of coffee. "Thank you, Lieutenant," he stated. Before he could close the door, the president entered his line if sight. "Madame President," Adama greeted.

"Admiral. It looks like I'm right on time," she remarked, entering his quarters.

He set the coffee pot down on his desk. "I'll grab the mugs."

Later they were seated on the couch, green mugs in hand. "How did you sleep?" he asked her politely.

She could not resist the quip, as her inner grammarian was feeling facetious. "On my back with my eyes closed."

He almost choked on his coffee. "Very funny. I should have said 'did you sleep well?'"

"Yes, thank you," she replied with a smirk.

"You still dizzy?" he probed.

She shook her head. "No, I feel much better. You had something you wanted to discuss, Admiral?"

_So it's back to business_. He nodded. "I need to question the woman calling herself Kara Thrace. I thought you might want to be there to, incase you want to add something."

"Thank you, yes I would like to be there," she responded, sipping her coffee. "What are you going to do with your son?"

His coffee did not go down the right way and he coughed a bit. Then he cleared his throat and replied, "I don't know yet. He did help fight the Cylons off before we jumped, but he broke the rules to do it."

Roslin studied him for a moment as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "And you're contemplating whether you should be angry as his admiral or as his father," she assessed.

_You've hit the nail on the head as usual_. "That pretty much sums it up. Then there's the matter of Dee. She left a note on my desk, apologizing to me and asking for a divorce. She asked me because she respects me, not because she thinks I can nullify it."

"You're mad at him for treating her poorly, but he's still your son and you hate thinking badly of him," she deduced.

He sighed and shook his head at her perceptiveness. "Mind telling me when I became so readable?"

"You're only readable when it comes to your son," she told him with a smirk. Then the look faded as if a cloud had passed over her. "He could stand to learn a few things from you."

Adama rested one hand on her shoulder. "He has a lot to answer for, maybe even more than Thrace."

Roslin finished her coffee, setting the mug on the table. "In that case, we should be going."

He took her cue and stood with her. They left his quarters after Roslin called Tory and then headed to the brig after calling Cottle to join him in order to obtain a sample of Kara's blood. Because they all questioned Baltar's test, Cottle had suggested that the use a sample of Athena's blood in a centrifuge and see if perhaps breaking up the blood's components might prove to be a better test.

Kara did not seem surprised to see the admiral, but she jumped to her feet as the president followed him. The flight suit she had been wearing had been confiscated and she stood before them in simple military fatigues. Cottle appeared a moment later.

"I take it I'm about to be examined and questioned at the same time," she said dryly.

Lee stood in his cell and moved closer to hers as Cottle entered it. "Dad, is this really necessary?"

Adama looked over at his son. "You know it is. Despite your disregard for the rules, they are still there. And I will not have-"

"Ahem," Roslin cleared her throat and placed a hand on his forearm, telling him in her own subtle way to keep the conversation to questioning instead of scolding.

He nodded to her and his gaze returned to Kara, letting the lieutenant in charge of the brig take notes. "Please state your full name and rank."

"Captain Kara Starbuck Thrace," she responded as Cottle left with her blood sample.

"Where have you been for the last two months?"

Her eyes widened. "Two months? I've only been gone for a few hours!" She looked over at Lee.

"He's right, Kara," the younger Adama mentioned.

"But that's impossible!" she protested.

"Just tell them where you've been," Lee suggested.

She took a deep breath and faced the admiral. "Sir, I've been to Earth. I've met the Thirteenth Colony, only they don't know about us. They didn't even speak our language, so it took a while before we could understand each other. They had a microphone that you spoke into and the other people had something in their ears that replayed their language-"

"Lee saw your ship blow up. The question is how are you here?" Adama interjected.

Glancing at Lee again for confirmation, she spoke. "This is gonna sound crazy, but here's what happened: the swirling storm we saw wasn't a storm. It was some kind of black hole or worm hole, or some sort of dimensional anomaly. Anyway, I went into it and the Cylon raider was right on my tail. Something stopped it from following me though, and it blew up just before I went through the anomaly. When I came out on the other side, I was on a gas giant planet. I flew out and saw another galaxy. My sensors picked up life on the third planet from the star the planets were orbiting. I landed on the planet on a runway of sorts. We talked for a while, once they figured out how to talk to me, and then I left."

Roslin stepped forward, noticing for a moment that the dog was behind her. "How did you end up in the Ionian Nebula?"

"I used coordinates the Earthers gave me. Then knew about the anomaly on the gas giant, and that it wouldn't lead back to the planet from which I'd entered it. I don't know how it works, but they said I'd come out in a nebula and I did. I know how to get to Earth," Kara declared.

"How long are you going to leave us in here?" Lee questioned.

Adama sighed and faced his son. "As long as it takes to determine that both of you are not a threat to the fleet."

"I was in my ship trying to help the fleet!" Lee argued.

Adama's hands clenched into fists. "You resigned. You can't just pick up where you left off like nothing happened. You publicly exposed the president and now you think you can just go back to the way things were? She trusted you and you violated-"

"I swear I didn't know! If I had known-"

"Gentlemen!" Roslin cut in, silencing them. "I can speak for myself. Admiral Adama, you will not mediate the situation between _Mr._ Adama and myself. _Mr._ Adama, there are things you and I should really discuss, but now is not the time or the place."

Kara cleared her throat. "Would someone tell me what the frak happened?"

"Baltar's trial. He was acquitted," Roslin mentioned.

The other woman rolled her eyes, then placed her hands on her hips as she paced the cell. "I'd like to have a word with the frakheads who came up with that one."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Roslin snorted. "You're talking with two of them," she stated, casually pointing to the admiral and his son.

"You've gotta be kidding me! Sir," she paused, looking at the admiral, "is she joking?"

"It's a long story," he remarked, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

The dog behind Roslin moved to her side and licked her hand. "What's with the dog, Madame President?" Kara inquired.

Roslin glanced down and then back at Kara, her eyes widening. "You can see him too?"

"Yeah. I see him as clearly as I see you," the blonde woman relayed.

The president shook her head. "That's impossible."

"What dog? There's nothing here," Lee commented.

Kara looked at him incredulously. "Are you blind, Apollo? It's sitting on the floor next to the president. Now it's moving toward you."

"You shouldn't be seeing anything. It's not really here," Roslin tried to explain.

"Are you telling me we're both hallucinating?" Kara inquired.

The older woman sighed. "I don't know."

Adama cleared his throat. "I think we should go and sort the rest of this out later."

Roslin nodded and they headed toward the door. She turned back for a second, hearing the dog bark. "Hey Apollo, there's a dog barking at you," Kara called over with a smirk.

Lee flopped down on the prison bed. As Adama and Roslin left, they heard Kara ask, "Alright, now what did you do to the president?"

The other two continued walking. "Well this is one fine mess," Roslin remarked quietly.

"Indeed," Adama agreed. "It'll be easier to sort it out though when we find out if she's a Cylon or not."

Roslin walked silently for a while. Then she faced him. "Do you think she really went to Earth?"

He shook his head. "It's too much to hope for."

Before they were to enter CIC, she reached for his hand and gently squeezed it. "Never give up hope, Bill."

(My thanks to carolann, Mariel3, T. Jonesy, Ceridwyn2, and BossaNovaBaby24 for reviewing :D).

(A/N: A centrifuge can be used for breaking down a cell's parts and separating them, such as mitochondrial DNA).


	4. Missing

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel. Brief spoilers are from the Patriot resource.

Chapter 4: Missing

In CIC, the president and the admiral stood near the table in the middle, waiting for the results of the most recent scans. Colonel Tigh stepped toward them, looking away from the DRADIS. "Looks pretty clear from here."

Roslin nodded. "The question is though, how long should we continue in this direction?"

"If Thrace's story is legitimate, she might give us coordinates periodically, but we shouldn't count on it," Adama mentioned quietly. Then he looked back at Gaeta. "Lieutenant, do our present coordinates match up with the charts you've been studying?"

"Yes, sir," he replied. "I'm not sure how, but they are more accurate than what I would've suggested."

Adama nodded, then began looking through the equipment reports sitting on the table. He skimmed them, not finding what he was looking for. The consoles in CIC were not helping either. The low-grade static was back and he could not place where it was coming from. "Saul, do we have anything different running in CIC?"

"Like what?" the XO inquired.

"Equipment I wasn't informed of?" the admiral questioned.

Tigh looked around the room and shook his head. "Not that I know of."

Roslin drummed her fingers against the table as she thumbed through her own reports. Adama moved back over to her. "What's your schedule for today?"

"Tory has everything nicely organized, though I haven't seen her much lately. I have to meet with the Quorum in two hours. Then Zarek wants to speak his peace. I also want a word with the Cylon prisoner. And then I have a meeting with you," Roslin explained.

"Sounds almost normal," he responded with a half smile.

"Whatever 'normal' is for us," she added with a smirk. Then she leaned closer to him. "I can't figure out why Thrace saw the dog," she whispered.

He nodded. "I'm drawing a blank on that one myself. It's as if…" he trailed off, noticing as Roslin's gaze drifted over to a space near Tigh. "What is it?"

"The dog's barking at Saul, but it's different from when he was barking at Lee. Digger's actually growling at him," she told Adama quietly.

"Was he ever a guard dog on New Caprica?" the admiral inquired.

"Not really, he- what if he's not just a dog? I've got to find that book, the one with the Pythia prophecy," she remarked, straightening herself.

"I think it's in my library. Feel free to peruse through it. I've got to finish my shift," he told her.

She nodded. "Thank you, Admiral."

When she reached his quarters, her eyes scanned the shelves for the book. The dog had come with her and kept leaning on her right leg, as if telling her to scoot over. She took a step to her left and then the dog jumped up against the bookshelf, his nose meeting a brown book without words on the spine. She lifted the book out and upon opening it, realized that it was the book she was looking for. Sitting down at Adama's desk, she flipped through the pages. She found the section about the dying leader and the 'lesser demon' who would be a guide. And then it followed that they would reach the Thirteenth Colony.

She reread it again and then realized that, with regard to story telling and narration, something did not add up. _The text jumps from Pythia and the demon guide to finding Earth, but this part doesn't flow like the previous part of the narration. What's wrong with this?_ The dog moved closer to her until his nose was level with the desk. Then he planted his nose in the book, at the part where she had been reading, and whined.

"I don't know what we're looking for," she told the dog, reaching down to pet him.

Running her fingers first over the pages, she then ran them over the binding. Something felt oddly rough. Suddenly she understood. Upon close inspection, a page had been ripped out. The prophecy was missing a page. She jumped up from the desk and reached for the phone.

In CIC, the phone rang and the admiral answered it. "Adama."

"Bill, there's a page missing from the Pythia prophecy. Do you know if anyone has an extra copy?" Roslin probed.

"Not at the moment. I'll ask around," he responded.

"Thanks, Bill."

"Any time, Laura," he ended.

Tigh looked over at Adama. "What was that about?"

The admiral faced the viewscreen. "She wants a particular book."

The XO chuckled quietly and shook his head. "We just ditched the Cylons, Baltar's loose, and she wants a book?"

"There's more to it than that," Adama relayed.

"I'm sure there is," Tigh said, still teasing his superior.

Adama brushed it off. _Now who else on this ship would have a lot of books? Maybe Laura should ask one of the priests. Who else has been here long enough? Jack might have a few books_, Adama decided. He picked up the phone again, intending to call the doctor.

Cottle had been processing Kara's blood when the phone rang. He set the glass piped in the holder in order to answer the phone. "Life Station, Cottle here."

"It's Bill. Do you know of anyone who has a copy of the Pythia prophecy?" Adama inquired.

The doctor snorted. "Are you serious?"

"The president needs it," the other man explained.

"Let me look and I'll call you back," the doctor stated.

Cottle left his office, letting the interns and nurses know. He entered his quarters, making his way passed the boxes of medical supplies. What they did not have room for in Life Station was sometimes stored in his living room. He navigated his way past few boxes of bandages before stopping in front of the shelves. "This might take a while," he said aloud, looking at the disorganized books and pamphlets protruding from the shelves.

His copy of the Pythia prophecy peeked out of the bottom shelf. His knees cracked as he stood, book in hand. "I hope they appreciate this," he grumbled, making his way back to Life Station.

Adama answered the phone when it rang later. "So you found it?"

"Yes. And in a while I'll have Thrace's test results from Baltar's test. Later I'll be able to tell you the results from the centrifuge," Cottle replied. "I also want to run some more tests on the president. Tell her about it when she comes to get her book."

"Thanks, Jack. I'll let her know," Adama responded. Adama then tried to call the president, but she was not on _Colonial One_. Then he recalled her mentioning a meeting with the Quorum and decided to call again later.

Roslin's meeting was droning on and she subtly twiddled her pen to keep herself awake. She looked down at the dog laying at her feet and contemplated her pet. _Why is he still here? And why did he bark at Saul? I wish I- _she stopped in mid thought as Tory handed her a glass of water, having returned from the water pitcher at the other end of the room.

"Thank you, Tory," Roslin stated.

The aide nodded. "Madame President."

Roslin shifted when the dog stood, walked over to Tory, and began barking in the similar way he had around Tigh. The Picon delegates were almost finished arguing with the Tauron delegates over who received more algae. Zarek had sent her a note that, due to the long Quorum meeting, he needed to reschedule his meeting with her for the next day. Shaking her head, Roslin decided that the matter between the delegates needed to be resolved.

She stood and several people turned toward her. "I do believe we are the ones to settle this. The allocation of algae has been mathematically determined. Arguing with each other over the matter does nothing because neither one of you has the ability to allocate more resources then what has been given to you. If you've got a problem, take it up with the scientists and the Board of Nutrition," she informed them.

Both delegates were slightly embarrassed and took their seats as some of the other delegates clapped. "Is there any further business?" Roslin questioned the Quorum. Everyone shook their heads and the meeting was adjourned.

Tory walked with Roslin as they exited the room. "Madame President, interrupting them might not have been the best idea."

"I am aware of that, but I could see no reason to let them continue a petty argument like that. Now what's next on the schedule?" Roslin redirected the conversation. The dog seemed to have disappeared as they walked.

"You wanted to speak with the Cylon in the brig," her aide answered. Then the younger woman glanced at her watch.

"Do you have somewhere to be?" Roslin inquired.

Tory shook her head. "Not yet, ma'am. But it is past lunchtime. Shouldn't we visit the galley before seeing the Cylon?"

Roslin paused, considering her schedule. "Alright. I am a bit hungry."

They made their way to the galley and ate grilled algae sandwiches. "I wish I had some salt," Roslin heard Tory mutter.

"At least it's not paste today," Roslin said quietly with a smirk. As she ate her lunch, she contemplated the woman before her. Tory's hair was brushed and she looked like she was taking better care of herself. _Must be the boyfriend_, Roslin mentally added. Her aide was still an intensely private person though. _I know I'm too old for gossip like this, but I really wish I knew whom she was seeing_.

After the meal, they headed for the other wing of the brig. Caprica Six sat on her cot, but stood up instantly as the two women entered. "Madame President," the Cylon greeted respectfully.

"Six," Roslin said with a nod. Then she turned to Tory. "I've got a few things to ask her. She might feel more comfortable if it was just me."

The aide's eyes widened. "Are you sure you want me to leave you alone here?"

"Everything will be fine," Roslin returned. Tory left reluctantly and Roslin turned back to the Cylon. "I know you've been having dreams."

"We all have. You, me, the Eight you call Athena, her daughter," Six responded.

"Do you know what they mean?" the president probed.

The tall blonde Cylon shook her head. "The only thing that I can distinguish is that we all have something in common."

"And what would that be?" Roslin questioned.

"Humanity," Six said plainly.

Roslin looked over the top of her glasses at the other woman incredulously. "Humanity? More like a twisting of humanity."

"No, it's more than that. In a cell, you have time, especially time to think. All of us in the dream represent something in humanity. I have chosen to side with the humans over the Cylons, Athena has tried to be human, Hera is half-human, and you are human, probably part of this through Hera. I can't figure beyond that though," Six explained.

The Cylon had mentioned a connection that Roslin herself had not considered. The slim possibility did exist that there was something in common with all of them. _But what does it mean? Why is it important? What are we supposed to learn from this? One of these days things will make sense_. "Do you know anything about the Final Five?" Roslin probed.

Six sighed and faced Roslin. "I want to help your people: that's why I'm here. I really would like to be out of this cell though. If I tell you something, would you let me out?"

Roslin crossed her arms. "I would have to trust you first. What reason do I have to trust you?"

"I could say something useful and then you could prove that I'm telling the truth by verifying it," Six suggested.

The president decided to play the political card. "We'll see. What do you know?"

/"They're close. I can feel them./ At least four are a lot closer than you realize. The fifth, though, I'm not as certain about," she relayed.

"Are the Cylons tracking us?" Roslin continued.

Six sat back on the bed. "Yes."

Rosin walked from one side of the room to the other, devising a bargaining angle. "If you tell me where I can find the devices, I'll make sure you get a shower and a change of clothes."

"_It's one step closer to freedom, and to winning her trust_," the Baltar in Six's head told her.

"Alright. There are three that I know of. The Cylon ship flown by the pilot you call Bulldog has an active tracking device on it when the Cylons are within a certain range. There is also one. Your ship, what do you call it, _Colonial One_? It has one also, malfunctioning, but left there by a Three. I think you know that model as D'Anna Biers. The third one I only know of because I can sense it. It was probably placed in what you call CIC on _Galactica_," Six answered.

Roslin immediately seized on a point of interest. "Why can you sense this one?"

"I don't know," she stated. The dog reappeared at Roslin's feet and began barking at the Six. Roslin glanced down at it out of habit and then back to the Cylon.

To the auburn-haired woman's relief, the Cylon did not see the dog. Suddenly the door opened and two marines dragged a woman up to the Cylon's cell. "I'll be going," Roslin told Six as Tory reentered.

The marines unlocked Six's cell and pushed the other woman in. "Looks like you've got some company," one marine said.

"Madame President," the woman called out, having recognized Roslin. The president whirled around. The woman's shoulder-length wavy black hair had purple highlights. She looked to be in her mid-thirties and stood only five-foot-one in black flats, a navy blue skirt, and matching blazer. Purple highlights aside, the woman looked like she could work for a business corporation.

"Look, there's been some sort of mistake," the woman began. "I was only looking for someone."

The marine to Roslin's left spoke. "We caught her hacking into the computer containing some of the passenger lists. Hackers are rare, but because nothing is networked, easier to catch."

Tory led the president outside of the brig. "You don't need to be harassed by convicts," the younger woman whispered.

"That's very kind of you, Tory, but I can handle a few things myself," Roslin said with a smirk.

"I'm certain of that, but you wouldn't want to be late for your meeting with the admiral," Tory remarked, catching Roslin's eye.

Roslin blushed, knowing that her aide would have seen through any form of denial she could have given. "Let's head to CIC then."

(My thanks to Leliana McKay, Mariel3, Ceridwyn2, carolann, bobcats, and max72 for reviewing :D)


	5. The choices we make

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel. I made up tricorodine.

Chapter 5: The choices we make

Rosin and Tory entered CIC, walking toward the admiral. He greeted her with the customary polite nod. "Madame President."

She smiled back. "Admiral."

He leaned toward her as they stood side by side at the table. "I found your book," he mentioned.

Her eyes widened. "Who had a copy?"

"Jack. When you come to pick up the book from Life Station, he wants to run a few more tests on you," Adama relayed.

Roslin rolled her eyes. "There should be some compensation for being a human guinea pig."

He snorted. "Jack did say that Thrace's results from the first test should be ready soon."

"Does that mean you're coming with me?" she inquired with a polite smile.

"Yes," he answered, looking over at Tigh. "Saul, it's yours. The president and I have a meeting."

The two spoke as they walked. "I met with Caprica Six. She hopes that the information she gave me will help her leave the cell eventually."

Adama raised an eyebrow. "What sort of story did she cook up?"

"Not the usual one. She told me about a few tracking devices. One works within a certain range and it's on Bulldog's Cylon raider. Then another is on _Colonial One_, but malfunctioning," Roslin mentioned.

"Whether it's true or not, we'll have to look into it. Any others?" he inquired.

Roslin folded her hands in front of her as they walked. "She said that one was recently activated in CIC, that she could sense it for some reason."

"It might've been activated when we entered the nebula. I've been looking for whatever put off that low-grade static, but I still can't find it," the admiral relayed. "Did anything else happen in the brig?"

"While I was there, a woman was brought in for hacking into a computer. She said she was looking for someone," Roslin added.

"The guard called me about that one. She got caught because a marine walking by the area whonoticed that she wasn't one of the usual people allowed to use that computer. I don't buy her story, so when the guard called, I told Cottle to test her for being a Cylon as well," he replied.

"But what if she was telling the truth?" Roslin suggested.

He shook his head. "She got caught too easily. Someone able to hack into a machine to find what she was looking for wouldn't be caught. There's more here than we're seeing."

As they stopped in front of Life Station, Tory, who had been silent for most of the walk, spoke up. "Madame President, I have somewhere else I need to be."

The older woman nodded. "Go ahead."

She and the admiral entered Life Station to find several military personnel in for routine checkups. Cottle walked over to them and motioned for them to follow him into his office. He spoke after shutting the door. "Since the Cylons weren't chasing us at the moment, it seemed like a good idea to check on the health of the crew. I didn't figure that they'd all show up at the same time though."

Roslin smirked. "It doesn't look like too much of a zoo."

"It was worse an hour ago," Cottle retorted, reaching back to his desk for a few reports. "From Baltar's test, Thrace's DNA is human, but I'm still waiting on the centrifuge. And I'm still waiting for results on the woman in the brig you called me about. What I have found so far in Thrace's blood when I ran it through a standard blood test might interest you though," he paused and looked directly at the president.

"Wherever she was, they gave her similar drugs to what the Cylons gave you on New Caprica," Cottle relayed.

Roslin and Adama exchanged looks of surprise. "Would she hallucinate then?" the president asked.

Cottle nodded. "Though these particular combinations of drugs are a little foreign, they would have hallucinogenic side effects."

"So she was probably interrogated?" Adama probed.

"It's very possible," Cottle paused to light a cigarette.

"Then she didn't get to Earth," Roslin added quietly, her gaze drifting to the floor.

Cottle stepped closer to the other two. "Now I didn't say that. Maybe she did get to Earth, and the humans there didn't trust her, so they interrogated her. It's unlikely, but plausible."

Adama thought for a moment. "I don't think anyone checked her flight suit. There might be some sort of clue we've missed."

"It's worth a try," Roslin remarked.

"Either way, it explains why she thinks she's only been missing for a few hours," Cottle stated. Then he took the brown book from his desk and handed it to the president. "I found the book, but before I let you go, I need to do a few more tests to see if the treatment is causing more problems then we bargained for."

"That's fine," she responded.

Adama stood. "I'm going to see if we can find those devices you mentioned and disable them."

"It sounds like a good plan," Roslin commented.

She rose and took a step toward the door when he placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'll be back later. Then maybe we can have a look at that book."

As he left, her gaze followed him before she turned to Cottle. "Find something amusing, Doctor?" she asked, noticing his smirk.

"No more than usual," he answered.

Adama's security teams had reported finding two of the three devices, but the third remained unaccounted for. He then decided to take another walk to the brig and have a look at Kara's flight suit. Not wanting to speak with Kara or Lee at the moment, Adama was led to the guard's small office.

"Here are her things, sir," the tall spindly man said.

The admiral held up her flight suit and checked the pockets. In the right pocket, he lifted out what appeared to be an electronic information pad of sorts. It was the length of his hand and slightly narrower. The button configuration was completely foreign though. As odd as it was to find the pad, the contents of the other pocket were even more peculiar. He found a handful of dark brown soil. He took a blank piece of notebook paper from the guard's desk and made a pouch for some of the dirt. He considered heading back to Life Station, but then remembered the new prisoner.

Walking to the side of the brig where her cell was, Adama stood in front of her. The blonde Cylon watched quietly with interest. "I am Admiral Adama," he began, watching the new prisoner with quiet scrutiny.

"I'm Sonya Getani," she responded. "Look, I think there's been-"

"I want the truth. What we you looking for in that computer?" he interrogated.

She paced the cell in a way that reminded him for a second of Roslin. "I really was looking for a person, my brother. I've been trying to find him since our rescue from New Caprica."

"You could've just asked one of the ships' captains for a roster," Adama mentioned.

"He and I are Sagittarians. I didn't expect anyone to listen to us. I was almost in too," she told him.

_I'll have to look for him myself to prove your story's authentic_. He took the pad from Kara's uniform out of his pocket. "What I need to know is do you really know how to hack into a computer?"

"Yes. I only got caught because I didn't see the marine. On New Caprica I lost the sight in my left eye. The man wandered into my blind spot," Sonya explained.

"What is your brother's name?" the admiral inquired.

"Frederick," she answered.

Adama walked slowly paced in front of her cell for a moment. "What is your occupation?"

"Now that is a good question," she said with a smirk. "At the time of the attacks, I was a paralegal. Then I was a receptionist for a few of the Quorum delegates. On New Caprica, the man I was working for was killed. Currently I assist those in charge of Galactica's barter system, reconfiguring prices to fit our circumstances. With no money, the value of things needs to be redefined. A well-made sweater, instead of costing fifty credits, could cost three night-shirts and a bathrobe, or a couple of books."

The admiral looked down at the pad in his hand again. "I have two choices. If the blood sample we took lets us know that you're not a Cylon, I could leave you in here for a month for hacking, or I can get you out a lot sooner."

"What's the catch?" she probed.

He held the pad in front of her. "If you can figure out the buttons and get it running as well as retrieve the information on it, then you won't be in here that much longer."

She studied the object, then brought her gaze back to him. "I'll do it."

"Good," he commented, handing her the device. "I'll be back tomorrow to see how you're doing.

Turning away from her, he reached for the phone to call Life Station. "I've got something I want you to look at, so I'll be over there soon," the admiral stated.

"I was just about to discharge Roslin. You want to say anything before I let her go?" Cottle asked.

"Yes," Adama replied. Then he waited.

"Bill," he heard her say. "I need to find Tory and go over a few things for my schedule tomorrow."

"That's fine. Could I persuade you to join me for dinner?" he inquired.

He could hear the smile in her voice. "Yes, I'd like that."

"I'll see you later then," he stated.

"See you in an hour," she added before both sides hung up the phone.

Prior to the admiral's call, the doctor had been explaining test results to the president. "You got dizzy because you don't eat often enough. I told you last time that diloxin steals your appetite. You need to be eating more and regularly."

She shrugged her jacket back on and looked over at him. "Will that be all, Jack?"

"No. You were also dizzy because one of the pain medications I gave you isn't sitting well, tricorodine ," he relayed.

"What does that mean?" she inquired plainly.

"It means that I have to give you more of one of the other two, and I've got a feeling I know which one you'll choose," he grumbled.

She sighed, her gaze drifting toward the door. "Then we'll do what has to be done."

Shortly after she had left, Cottle received another guest. Though reluctant to aide the guest, he sent the man into his office and told him to wait. Then Adama entered, a scrunched up paper in his hand. "I need you to analyze this," Adama stated, handing Cottle a small bag of dirt from Kara's pocket.

Cottle raised an eyebrow and sighed heavily. "With all due respect, Admiral, I don't have time to analyze a soil sample. I've got too many patients who need real medical help, and too many interns who don't know a stethoscope from a bedpan."

Adama snorted. "I hope you're being sarcastic."

"Okay, maybe the interns know a bit more than that, but they're all still in training and I'm trying to keep some semblances of organization in here. You should take that to the lab," the doctor suggested.

The admiral shook his head. "Too much chance that one of them will miss the significance, and I can't just say, 'here's a sample of Earth' when I don't know for certain."

Cottle nodded and glanced toward his office before returning to Adama. "In that case, I've got someone looking for a job. I thought you'd like to have a word with him before I let him near anything," he mentioned, grumbling.

The doctor led Adama to his office. Sitting in a plastic chair was the most disturbing man in the entire fleet: Gaius Baltar. A combination of loathing and anger boiled in the back of Adama's throat for a moment. Here was the man who had personally caused him so much trouble. Baltar looked up immediately as the admiral entered.

"Give me one good reason why I should hear anything you have to say," Adama growled quietly.

Baltar spoke calmly. "I know Captain Thrace is back from the dead."

(My thanks to Leliana McKay, Ceridwyn2, carolann, caramelapples, and hadizha for reviewing :D)


	6. The guide

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.

Chapter 6: The guide

"How?" Adama quietly demanded.

"I have my sources. But that isn't really the point. I know you hate me. The Cylons want to find Earth as much as you do, and I'd rather not let them find it first. I want to help you in any way that I can," the dark-haired man expressed.

"I think your sources do matter. How did you learn about Thrace's return?" Adama pursued.

Baltar sighed. "I heard it by accident from one of the deckhands who saw her exit her craft."

"You're still not very convincing. I heard you have a cult following," the admiral mentioned.

"Yes, but one gets tired of having one's picture up everywhere. It's like having a house full of mirrors," Baltar remarked nonchalantly. "Is it so hard to believe that I actually want to help you?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," Adama retorted.

Baltar folded his hands. "I do want to help."

"What would be in it for you?" the admiral questioned.

"Anonymity for a while until the noise from the trial dies down," Baltar explained.

Adama crossed his arms. "You expect me to believe that you'd willingly avoid attention?"

"It's quite annoying to walk through the halls having people glare at you and whisper about you all the time," the other man stated.

Adama pondered the request for a moment. To say he hated the man in front of him was an understatement. He took a deep breath and decided to err on the side of diplomacy, hoping that the other man might understand better. "I'm sorry, Dr. Baltar, but your services aren't needed."

Baltar sat back in his chair. "I think they are. Do you really hate me so much that you want to see the Cylons get anywhere before you do?"

_So much for diplomacy_, Adama thought, glaring menacingly at Baltar. "I have no reason whatsoever to trust you with anything."

The dark-haired man blinked in annoyance. "I built the Cylon detector-"

"That didn't tell us Boomer was a Cylon," Adama growled.

"I could tell a lot of people about Thrace. I'm certain the press would love that one," Baltar added with a smirk.

Adama's hand came down hard on Cottle's desk, startling Baltar. "I will not be threatened on my own ship."

"My mistake," Baltar whispered, a hint of fear flashing in his eyes.

"What are you really here for?" Adama questioned.

Baltar took a breath to gather his nerves and straightened his black buttoned shirt. "I offer my help to you all. Half the fleet sees me as a monster. Let me prove them wrong."

"You're offering to help just to make yourself look good?" the admiral assessed.

Baltar faked a laugh. "That's ridiculous."

_At least I have my answer now. It's too bad that I can't just through him back in the brig. I wouldn't trust him to wash windows at this point. But if I let him help, I can have him watched most of the time and he'll be less likely to start trouble_. "A marine will be watching you in the lab. You will not remove anything from the lab, or bring anything into the lab except what we give you to analyze. Are those terms acceptable?"

The other man smiled broadly. "Yes, Admiral, quite acceptable. Thank you."

Adama handed him the soil sample. "In that case, you can start now."

The admiral called to have a marine watching Baltar and saw that both were in the lab before he headed for his quarters. When he entered, he found Roslin on his couch. Her shoes had been discarded by the end of the couch and she lay stretched out on it, using her jacket for a pillow. Having allowed herself a nap, she blinked as he stepped further into the room, smiling at him warmly. She had dreamed of the cabin again and the peace that always came from those sorts of dreams lingered with her.

"I hope you have more in mind for dinner than just algae paste. It's been a long day," she remarked.

She looked more relaxed than he had seen her in several days. _I'll tell her about Baltar later. She deserves to pass through one day without hearing about him_. "I promise it's edible. You're gonna have to trust me," he told her with a smirk.

Standing, she crossed her arms and walked over to him. "Hmm, Bill Adama in the kitchen, I don't know. I might have to supervise this maneuver."

A coy look had taken up residence in her green eyes as he chuckled. "Mind if I ask what's got you in such a good mood all of the sudden?"

He walked into the kitchen to start dinner and she followed him, continuing the conversation. "Aside from the fact that I had time for a nap, I found out that three of the committee members I was supposed to meet with cancelled, so I have most of the morning free."

"That is good news. Can I persuade you to join me for coffee again?" Adama suggested, pulling out the proper utensils before removing green dough from his refrigerator.

She smiled as the dog appeared next to her. "It sounds suitable. It's been so long since I had a moment to myself, let alone a few hours."

He rolled out the green dough and began stuffing it with spices before rolling it back up. She stood next to him and mimicked his actions after watching him. "What is on your agenda for tomorrow?" he questioned.

"I haven't had time yet to read the missing part to the prophecy. Other than that, I have a meeting with the education committee to discuss a few questions the have on the curriculum, then the Board of Nutrition wants a word with me about the complaints they've received from a few of the Quorum delegates. Zarek had a few points to discuss with me as well, and I think both of us need to attend that meeting," she mentioned.

"Sounds like fun," he muttered dryly.

She smirked as the dog nuzzled her leg. "Toward the end of the day, I'll be meeting with Chief Tyrol for an update on tillium production."

"Another typical day in our line of work," he commented.

Roslin watched as he placed the green stuffed dough balls on a baking sheet and then put the sheet into the oven. One of her hands strayed down to pet the dog. "Now how about your day? Did you find anything on Captain Thrace's flight suit?"

"I found some sort of electronic pad in one pocket and soil in the other," he explained, his gaze focused on the food. "Without telling her where it was from, I let our prisoner who claims to be a hacker look at it."

"And the soil sample?" she asked as they waited for dinner to finish cooking.

"I'm having the soil sample analyzed," he commented.

They stood quietly, comfortable in the presence of each other as they watched the stove. Soon the meal was finished cooking. After the table had been prepared and they were both seated, she continued their conversation. "Do you think it could be soil from Earth?" Rosin inquired.

Adama took a bite of his food. "At this point, I have no idea."

"It's too much to hope for, that things could ever be so simple," she commented, also taking a bite. Then she smiled over at him. "I stand corrected. At least dinner is simple. This turned out quite well."

He returned the smile. "Thank you."

They finished the meal and she took a drink of water before speaking again. "Is it too optimistic to hope that we'll ever find peace?" she asked, running her fork around the empty plate in front of her.

"It is, until it isn't," he stated, echoing her words from the old discussion about New Caprica.

She looked over at him with an almost flirtatious smirk. "Is that so?"

"Yes," he returned with a grin.

As she chuckled softly her laughter turned into a few yawns. "I suppose I should head back to my ship. It's been such a long day."

He nodded. "Indeed." They both stood and he escorted her to the door. "Are we still on for coffee tomorrow, or were you planning on sleeping late?"

"Sleep is a luxury that I try to use sparingly. I think I'd rather have coffee with you. That way I can borrow your couch for another nap after you leave for your shift," she responded, gently squeezing his forearm.

_If only we had time for more dinners like this_, he mused. She began to release him, but he was not ready for her to go. He leaned forward and brushed her lips with his lightly. "Goodnight, Laura."

She blushed and smiled shyly. He was glad that she did not seem upset by his impulsive actions. "Goodnight, Bill," she replied before heading down the hall on her way to the shuttle bay.

During the night Roslin dreamt of the cabin again. _It was a gray afternoon. She sat on her end of the bed as Adama sat on his, quietly reading his book by the lamp. The rustle of a page turn was the only indication that he was not asleep. She smiled as she watched the rain through the window. Digger was napping, sprawled out over her feet, as if he had become a giant furry slipper._

_"I wish it could always be like this," she remarked._

_He looked up at her. "It's not real though."_

_She frowned and sighed. "Why isn't it?"_

_"Because you have important things to do," he stated._

_"Like what?" she challenged._

_Shrugging, he set the book down on the bed. "Gardening, making sure the children have their lessons, getting to Earth."_

_At the last statement, the cabin faded and she found herself in the opera house, the bright light of the lamps reflecting off the gold walls, stinging her eyes. She found herself looking for Hera again. The scene continued as it had on the previous occasions, but when Roslin spotted Sharon, she heard Kara calling her name._

_"Laura, Sharon can take care of Hera. You have to come with me," the younger woman insisted._

_"Why?" Rosin asked as she turned to her right, seeing Kara standing in the doorway._

_"Because this isn't the way things will be," Kara relayed._

Roslin sat straight up in bed and looked around, catching her breath. As she stood, nausea set in and she ran to the bathroom, emptying the contents of her stomach. After regaining her sense of equilibrium and showering, she looked at the timepiece on her desk. It was only six o'clock. She decided to call over and find a pilot to fly her to _Galactica_, not wanting to sleep any longer.

Adama was at his desk when he heard a knock at the door. "You're early," he told her as he opened the hatch. "Is everything okay?"

She nodded, heading over to his couch. "I just couldn't sleep any more."

He did not believe her, but decided to let the matter drop as he handed her a glass of water. She smiled in appreciation and they sat together in silence for a while. As in the dream, she could hear the rustle of paper as he turned the pages. _I might as well tell him all of it. He's bound to find out eventually_. Roslin stood and walked over to his desk, gently laying a hand on the pile of folders that he had already read.

Adama set the current report down and looked up at her through his glasses. "Coffee should be here in half an hour."

"It's not about coffee," she began quietly.

He placed a hand on top of hers for a moment. "I know."

She moved to sit on the edge of his desk, close to his chair. "I had another dream about the cabin, but I've actually been having dreams about a Caprican opera house lately." She proceeded to tell him about Sharon, Hera, and Six and how they had appeared in her dreams. Then she told him the recent detail about Kara. "I have no idea what to make of things."

"You'll sort this out," he reassured her as they heard a knock.

Standing, he made his way to the door and opened it to accept the coffee pot. She headed into his kitchen and poked around for a few minutes before finding his mugs. Then she reemerged and the two were settled on the couch with a cup of coffee. "There's something you need to know," he began. "I didn't tell you sooner because I knew you wouldn't take it well. I ran into Baltar yesterday."

"Is he bored with his cult following already?" she asked sardonically, having heard the recent rumors.

"Something like that. He wanted me to give him something to do. Said he wanted to help us. Probably a bunch of crap," Adama replied.

She took a sip of her coffee. _Black again. Deities, I'm tired of black coffee. It's too bad the whole fleet's out of creamer, but I suppose I should be thankful that at least we still have coffee_. "I'm sure the insects miss him from whatever rock he crawled out from under."

Adama snorted. "You're not going to like this, but Baltar will be analyzing the soil sample."

She glared at him over the top of her glasses. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Adama looked out in front of him. "He knows about Thrace."

"So?" she retorted.

"So he could do a lot of damage if he says too much before we're ready. I'm having him watched by a marine," the admiral told her.

She sighed and crossed her knees. "That man's poison."

Adama nodded. "I know, but right now he's still the smartest man in the fleet."

"You're right, I don't like it," Roslin commented, taking another sip of coffee.

"I don't either, but this way I can keep an eye on him," Adama added.

"Oh I'd like to keep an eye on him, enough to watch as he flies out the nearest airlock," Roslin seethed.

Adama sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Laura, I'm not asking you to forgive him, or to deal with him at all. I'm telling you that I'm dealing with this personally and stopping him from causing any more trouble."

She put up a hand dismissively. "Just don't tell me any more. If I can pretend that man no longer exists, I just might feel better."

Giving her a half-smile, he finished his coffee. "It's too bad you can't run a fleet on wishful thinking."

His comment reminded her of the dream. She reached into her bag and removed the book. "We can argue about Baltar needing to be airlocked later. It's time that we found out what the rest of that prophesy says:

'The lesser demon will guide the dying leader to the marker pointing to the Thirteenth Colony. She is the first of three guides. Past the marker, if the prophetess follows further, this first guide will lead her to the false home. A second guide will be given to the prophetess, one who has returned from the dead. This second guide will know the way to the Lost Colony. The third guide will be of a baser species, but incorporeal and visible only to the second guide and the prophetess. The third guide will serve to protect the dying leader against those who cause her harm, and will also know who the demons are.'

"If Kara is the second guide, then that's why she can see the dog," Roslin reasoned.

"Which means that the dog must be the third guide. I wonder what it means though that the third guide will 'know who the demons are,'" Adama stated.

"Maybe he barks at them ferociously," Roslin surmised.

Adama shook his head. "The dog barked at Saul. That theory doesn't wash," he paused and looked at his watch. "Speaking of which, my shift starts in ten minutes."

"I'll catch up with you later then," she stated. She kissed him on the cheek before he dashed out of the door.

As Adama's day progressed, Cottle called him, informing him that he decided to use Athena's help in perfecting a better Cylon detector. "She says that Cylons hear on different frequencies than humans. She wants to help me build a device that can make sounds on the signals. Those who react to it are probably Cylons."

"Sounds like a good idea. Go ahead, Jack," Adama responded.

Later the admiral decided that it was time to verify Sony Getani's story. He returned to the same computer that she had used and perused through the rosters. There actually was a Frederick Getani, but he was killed during one of the Cylon conflicts prior to New Caprica. Finding nothing else noteworthy in his file, Adama brought up Sonya's.

Her file contained her name, date of birth, family history, and the status that she was alive. However, no information regarding her occupation before the attacks was listed. It was almost as if she had not existed before the attacks. A thought struck him and he searched the computer to see if it contained recently deleted files. Though he could not recall the files, there was a date for which something had been deleted, which corresponded with Sonya having been arrested.

"The problem wasn't what she was looking for, but what she got rid of," he assessed aloud before heading back to CIC.

(My thanks to Ceridwyn2, carolann, Mariel3,caramelapples, andmiss mcGonaglefor reviewing :D)


	7. Crossing the line

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.

Chapter 7: Crossing the line

Roslin had dozed off reading the prophecy, not long after Adama had left. When she woke an hour later, she decided to visit Kara in the brig, leaving the rest of the prophecy for later. The blonde woman looked up as she entered. Lee in the other cell did the same. "Madame President, I'm glad you came by. There's this dream-"

"You told me that I needed to come with you," Roslin interjected.

Kara's eyes widened. "You had the dream too?"

Lee stepped over to the front of his cell. "What dream?"

Kara waved him off, focusing only on Roslin as she walked toward her. "What does it mean?"

Roslin crossed her arms in front of her. "I wish I knew. The dream was the same until you appeared."

The blonde woman stepped back, trying to put her hands into her pockets, but finding only the flat material of the prison uniform. She glared at the space where the pockets would have been and then looked back up at the president. "Maybe you have to choose which one of us to follow regarding how we get to Earth."

_It seems like a valid point. Should I tell her about the dog, about the drugs in her system? It would be better to ask Bill first_, she reasoned. "Perhaps you're the guide I should be following."

Lee had been listening, confusion written all over his face. "Ma'am, I don't know what this is about, but how long do we have to stay here?"

For an instant he reminded her of a child in a time-out. "Mr. Adama, that is the admiral's decision. Furthermore, you should be grateful that he's the one holding the keys because I'm not completely certain which side you're really on," Roslin snapped.

"I think it's time you apologized," Kara whispered over to him.

Lee nodded and then turned back to Roslin. "Ma'am, I know you probably won't forgive me, and what I did to you was inappropriate. I hurt you publicly and I never meant to do that. I honestly didn't know your cancer had returned. If I had, I swear I wouldn't have asked you about the tea. Saying 'I'm sorry' feels so hollow, but those are the only words I can express myself with. Ma'am I am so sorry."

She had heard the sincerity in his voice, seen the intensity in his blue eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Adama," she said quietly, folding her hands in front of her. She noticed the dog sitting on the floor by her feet, looking up at her. "However, I still need time."

Deciding that she should also speak to the Six, Roslin left Kara and Lee, heading to the other wing of the brig. Six stood as soon as Roslin entered. Sonya was asleep in the other cell. "You had the dream," Six whispered.

Roslin moved close to her and nodded. "It was different though."

"You should follow Kara Thrace. Whatever was there before her arrival won't lead you to Earth," the Cylon suggested.

Roslin blinked. "You really think that's what it means?"

"I don't know exactly, but it looks like you're being shown a new path," Six relayed.

"I wish things would make sense," Roslin muttered, turning back toward the door.

"Wait!" Six exclaimed, still whispering. The president turned back and Six continued. "There is something you need to know. The tracking device in CIC is actually moving. I don't know how it's possible, but it is." With worry in the pit of her stomach, Roslin left the brig to meet Tory to begin her scheduled day.

In CIC the day seemed to drag by. Adama drummed his fingers absently on one of the consoles. Tigh glanced over at his friend, then up at the DRADIS. "Not much goin' on here today, Admiral. Got something on your mind?"

Adama sighed, facing Tigh. "Call in an extra project. It could end up being more trouble than it's worth if I'm wrong."

Tigh leaned closer. "Does it have anything to do with a certain red-head?"

The admiral frowned at him over the top of his glasses. "It most certainly does not, and it's not any of your business if it did," he whispered.

The XO could not hold back the smirk spreading across his face. "Didn't mean to imply anything _improper_, Admiral."

Adama rolled his eyes, attempting to maintain his stoic facade. "I have something I need to see to. CIC's yours." Then he strode out of the room, leaving the colonel to imaging the many things that the admiral could be up to.

In actuality, Adama headed to the lab to ask Baltar about the soil sample. The dark-haired man was hunched over a microscope as Adama entered the lab. He cleared his throat and Baltar jumped. "Admiral!"

"I came to see if you've finished with the soil sample," Adama mentioned.

Baltar reached for a paper on the other side of the table. "Frankly, it's not like anything I've seen lately. The sample has some chemicals, but it's rich in nutrients and nitrogen. You could grow several things in soil like that. It's definitely not from New Caprica. The soil there was more like sand and mostly useless. I don't know where you acquired it from, but it's not from our colonial worlds either."

"What makes it different?" Adama asked as Baltar passed the paper to him.

"Due to progress, certain chemicals ended up in the soil of our worlds. However, the chemicals in the sample you gave me don't match up," he explained.

"That's very helpful," Adama remarked.

"I would like to run a few more tests on it," Baltar stated.

The admiral nodded. "That will be fine."

Adama had been in a 'strictly business' mood, and it had worked well. He was uncertain though as to what should be done with Baltar when the analysis was complete. Before going to the boardroom for a meeting with the president and Zarek, the admiral visited Life Station. Cottle looked up at him from the electronic board that he was working on as Adama entered.

"I'll bet you want to know what the results were for the centrifuge," Cottle assessed.

"Yes," Adama responded.

The doctor set down his screwdriver and retrieved a print-out. "You'll be glad to know she's not a Cylon. Cylon blood not only has a lack of antigens, but also more antibodies."

"Much as I hate to drag too many people into this, do you think another infusion of Hera's blood might help Roslin?" Adama suggested.

Cottle shook his head. "First off, she's refused it. She feels bad about the Cylons getting a hold of the girl for a while. Secondly, I used an old sample on Roslin's blood and she seems to have built up a resistance to it. Fact is, I don't know how it worked in the first place because they don't have the same blood type. Nearest I can figure is that the mix of the human antibodies and the Cylon antibodies attacked the biggest threat and blood type didn't make as much of a difference. If you remember though, it took a while before Roslin was back on her feet. I think the blood type issue caused her a few problems once the cancer was in remission."

Adama sighed and turned to leave. "Thanks, Jack."

"I should be finished with the sound device by the end of the day," Cottle reminded him.

The admiral headed to the boardroom, dreading what ludicrous issue the Sagittarian would bring up this time. He smiled at Roslin and nodded at Adama as he entered the boardroom a few minutes after the admiral had.

Setting down the folders in front of him as he took a seat, Zarek's expression was grave. "I'm not going to waste anyone's time with numbers and figures in this matter. The bottom line is that we've only got about four months of food supplies left."

"And you've confirmed this with the Board of Nutrition?" Roslin probed.

Her vice president nodded. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but it's no exaggeration. You let me handle the meeting with them and that's what they told me."

Roslin ran a hand through her hair and sighed. "Any suggestions?"

"That we learn how to make food appear out of thin air, or we find a planet with something edible soon," Zarek stated.

"We're going to have to make things last until we can find something," Adama added.

"Why don't you scan for a planet now?" Zarek pursued.

Adama folded his hands in front of him. "It's not that simple. We have a course laid in that we need to stick to."

Zarek looked at him with disbelief. "And where would that be?"

"Earth," Roslin answered.

"Do either of you really believe that? What proof do you have?" Zarek challenged.

Roslin and Adama exchanged glances, considering where to take the conversation. Then the admiral faced Zarek. "Captain Thrace has returned, claiming to have been to Earth. We're still investigating the matter, but for the moment we are getting a course from her."

"And where is she now?" the Sagittarian probed.

"In the brig," Adama replied plainly.

Zarek sat back in the plastic chair. "You won't be able to leave her there for long. Once word gets out, the questions will pour in. What are you going to do about it?"

Adama would have rather discussed the matter with Roslin alone, but perhaps with a third, if grudgingly accepted opinion, a solution might be reached. "I came here from Life Station. Dr. Cottle has confirmed that she's not a Cylon. We'll probably put her back into the fleet."

Roslin raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure that's wise? We'll have to explain her disappearance. And what do we tell her husband?"

"I will not keep her in the brig indefinitely," Adama expressed, his feelings toward his surrogate daughter apparent in the statement.

"I'm only suggesting that we keep her elsewhere for a while," Roslin mentioned calmly.

Zarek cleared his throat and the other two jerked their heads over toward him, as if having forgotten that he was in the room. "If I may offer some advice, she basically came back from the dead and you'll have to deal with the fallout from that sooner or later; I suggest sooner. You could say that the storm she was supposedly sucked into actually sent the Viper back out into space, but certain electronic failures prevented it from being detected," Zarek suggested.

Adama considered the plan for a moment. "It is an interesting idea. We'll keep our options open."

_These two are almost agreeing on something. What's wrong with this picture? I suppose stranger things have happened_, Roslin mused. "Was there anything else, Tom?"

He reached into the bag at his feet and pulled out a thick black folder. "Until recently, I've been receiving reports from the younger Adama regarding who has priority for the placement of supplies, since the military does control part of that. Lately I haven't heard from him and I've got people breathing down my throat looking for things a minute as a bar of soap."

"Mr. Adama left the military," the admiral relayed dryly.

Zarek raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What did you do, put him in a cell next to Thrace?" he asked with a smirk. The admiral's stoic façade remained in place, but Roslin looked down at her hands. Zarek smirked. "You did. I suppose that's one way of sending him to his room after puberty."

At that, Adama glared at the other man across the table. "It is _no_ business of yours how I choose to deal with my-"

"Gentlemen!" Roslin interjected. She gave both a teacher-like 'over the glasses stare.'

Zarek scooted his chair back slightly. "Was there anything you wanted to discuss?"

"Actually yes. I need you to find as much information as you can about a Sagittarian woman named Sonya Getani. She claims to know a few things about computers. A marine caught her trying to hack into a computer," Adama explained.

The other man glanced down in thought for a moment. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you, Tom," Roslin responded. She then proceeded to review her delegate schedules with him.

After a while, the admiral droned them out, not wanting to hear about who was meeting whom and what times would not work. Suddenly he heard the low-grade static again for a moment. Then as if his pencil had a mind of its own, he began writing on the paper in front of him. "What do you think, Admiral?" Roslin asked casually. He was furiously writing something and did not seem to hear her. "Admiral. Bill!"

Suddenly he jerked his head up, staring at her. "I'm sorry, Madame President. I suppose I distracted myself."

Zarek glanced at his watch. "If it's alright with you, Laura, I need to be going. I've got to keep the press off my back long enough to get something done."

Roslin smirked as he stood. "Good luck with that, Tom."

He nodded and then looked to the admiral. "I'll check into the matter of the woman. She sounds familiar and someone is bound to know who she really is."

"Thank you," Adama stated.

Zarek left, closing the door behind him. She turned back toward Adama. "What were you doing?" she questioned.

His gaze drifted down to the paper in front of him as she walked toward him to look over his shoulder. "It looks like I was doodling, but I wasn't thinking about it."

The 'doodle' was a series of zeros and ones. "Bill, why were you doodling in binary code?" Roslin probed.

"Beats me," he replied. "What's next?"

She looked over a few papers in front of her. "I have a meeting with Chief Tyrol about the tillium."

"I should probably be there too," Adama commented. As they waited for the chief in the boardroom, he decided to tell her about the soil sample. "The dirt from Kara's pocket is rich in nutrients and not from any place we've been so far."

Roslin brightened. "If it's not Earth, then maybe at least it has food there."

"Let's hope so," he added.

Looking toward the door, she spoke again. "I went to see Thrace about the dream. While I was there, your son apologized to me."

She had said it in an emotionless tone. He placed a hand on hers, lightly stroking the back with his thumb. "Some things take longer than others."

"What are we going to do with him?" she asked, slowly turning to face Adama.

He sighed heavily. "That's up to him and where his loyalties are."

A knock at the door caused the two to separate and stand. Tyrol entered, holding a few folders of his own. Roslin wondered for a moment how everyone seemed to have a folder, but then recalled that several boxes had been in the gift shop storage room. "Ma'am, Sir, I'm glad you're both here," he began.

The three sat and the chief reached into his folder before handing them the latest reports. "Production is better than last month and the new training program we have has really helped in preventing injuries."

"That's good to hear," Adama commented.

Roslin smiled. "Indeed. How are the shift rotations going?"

"They've been working better since we've got more volunteers. A few of them are still grumbling, but the workload in general has been divided so it's not as hard as it was before," Tyrol relayed, glancing at his watch.

"Was there anything else, Chief?" Roslin inquired.

His gaze remained on the door. "Yeah, actually there is."

At that moment there was a knock at the door. Tyrol stood to let in Anders, Tory, and Tigh. "Saul, who's at CIC?" Adama questioned.

"Helo," he answered, closing the door.

Roslin noticed that Tory's hand was joined with that of Anders, intertwined behind her back as she stood slightly in front of him. _So that's her mystery man. Telling him that his wife's not dead should be interesting_. "Tory, what is this about?"

Tory looked at Tigh, as if hoping that he would speak for all of them. Tigh faced his superior officer and commander-in-chief with a weary look in his eye. He took a deep breath. "We're Cylons."

(My thanks to carolann, T. Jonesy, and caramelapples for reviewing :D )


	8. You can't hide

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.

Chapter 8: You can't hide

The color drained from Roslin's face and Adama stared wide-eyed at the four. He found his voice before the president could. "This is the craziest thing I've ever heard. Saul, are you absolutely sure?"

Before he could answer, Roslin spoke. "How did you come to realize that you were Cylons? Or have you been Cylons from the beginning?"

Tory stepped forward, her hands folded in front of her. "Madame President, we don't know for certain that we are Cylons, but we suspect that we are because the four of us were hearing the same strange song. As we entered the nebula, the song intensified and we were all drawn from different parts of the ship to meet in one room."

"We were all hearing the same thing. What else could we be?" Tyrol exclaimed.

Adama studied him with a scrutinizing stare. "Have you told your wife?"

The chief looked down at his shoes. "She's furious with me."

Roslin watched them, noticing how nervous they looked. _I wish the dog was here right now. He seems to come and go as he pleases_. "Now that you've told us, what do you think we should do about this?"

Adama stood. "I believe the better question is, whose side are all of you on?"

"I'm not gonna let those frakking toasters control me. I'm Saul Tigh, your XO, and that's who I'll be 'till the day I die. I'm helping what's left of humanity," Tigh stated, echoing the speech he had given at the time of discovering that he was a Cylon.

"Ma'am, I will serve you to the best of my abilities. I have no intention of helping the Cylons," Tory expressed.

Anders spoke as well. "All I know is how to fight them, and that's what I'm going to do. They are not getting the best of us. I'll make sure they pay for what they've done to us."

Tyrol nodded. "We're on your side, Admiral. Those toasters need a good kick in the can. We won't let them win."

Adama smiled back politely. "It's nice to know where everyone stands, however, if I let you go back to your jobs, there will be a marine assigned to watch you."

Roslin then stood. "Perhaps it would also be beneficial if we went down to Life Station and confirmed that you are indeed Cylons before we make too many plans," she suggested.

They headed to Life Station with Roslin in the lead and Adama in back. Cottle looked over as they passed through the door. "Do I want to know?" he grumbled.

Adama sighed and shook his head. "I wish we weren't here for this, but these four claim to have discovered that they're Cylons. I want you to test them as best you can."

Cottle nodded. "The sound test isn't ready yet, but I can put their DNA through Baltar's test and the centrifuge."

"That will be fine. I want to keep them here until we know what we're dealing with," Adama added.

"Just see that they don't disturb my patients," Cottle acquiesced.

As the admiral and the president were about to leave, Cottle stopped them. "Ma'am, I need to run a few more tests before you go."

She looked from the doctor to Adama. "I'll catch up with you in the morning, Admiral. With Tory here, I need to head back to my ship soon to see what my schedule is tomorrow."

His eyes held a reluctant expression for a second. "In the morning then, Madame President," he said before he left, heading back to CIC.

An hour later, the doctor led her back to his office and closed the door. Cottle fingered an unlit cigarette and sighed heavily, facing the president. "I didn't want to tell you until I was sure. And I'm tired of bad news. All I can say is 'don't shoot the messenger.'"

She removed her glasses, folding them in her lap. "Why don't you just say it? It's spreading, you don't know why, and the conventional treatment isn't having much of an affect," she assessed.

He blinked. "That's the whole of it."

"Options?" she asked, hiding behind her political calm.

"We keep on treating you as we have, hoping that something will work, exploring new venues as well. I am not giving up," he replied.

She took a deep breath and stood. As she met his gaze, he could see the strength and fortitude behind her green eyes. "You will not discuss my health any further with the admiral. I know he asks."

Cottle's brow furrowed. "Young lady, he is only trying to help. He cares about you."

"I know that. You don't need to burden him with my problems," she said crisply.

"He still deserves to know," Cottle muttered as he left the room.

She left Life Station, heading back to Colonial One to retrieve some of her paperwork._ Bill Adama will not suffer because of me. He will probably end up watching me die, but I will be damned if I will let him watch me waste away_, she resolved as she reached the docking bay.

Having set her schedule for the next day, she had cold algae sandwiches for dinner. It was not what she would have preferred, but knowing that resources were limited, she ate it anyway. As she laid down for bed, Roslin felt the sharp pain in her side again. As the wheezing accompanied it, she took some of her pain pills as well as tea with chamalla dilluded. When her head hit the pillow, she noticed the dog sleeping by her on the floor. His presence had become an odd comfort to her.

_She was standing by the kitchen sink, the morning light drifting through the window above, casting a warm glow on her face. Adama entered the room with Digger following him. "You could've just left the dishes for later," he commented, placing a hand on the small of her back._

_Leaning into his touch, she smiled. "I know, but I wanted to get them done after breakfast so that I'd have more time for other things later."_

_Slowly his arms wrapped around her and he rested his head on top of hers. There's still so much to do."_

"_Yes, the weeds have exploded in the garden. With the school, I've let it go too long," she remarked._

"_You can't hide from the things you've done," he stated._

_The comment sounded so odd for the day that she moved out of his embrace and abruptly turned around. What she saw caused her to scream. Instead of Adama, she found herself facing Leoben. The dog trotted into the kitchen and began barking at the intruder._

_Leoben smirked at Roslin and she began to back away. "I should say those things which were hidden will come to light from what we've done."_

She woke up screaming, sitting up straight in bed. Switching on the lamp while fumbling with her glasses, she was relieved to find herself alone in the room. The dog was there, watching her with what almost looked like concern. He sat up and placed his head in her lap with a slight whine. "Real or not, right now I'm glad you're here," she told Digger, petting his head.

Her nerves calmed and she reached for the phone, not noticing the time. She dialed it and waited. After a pause she heard someone clearing his throat and a groggy "Hello?"

"Bill," she began.

"Laura? Are you alright?" he questioned, his voice sounding more normal.

"It's silly. It was a nightmare of sorts. I just…," she trailed off, seeing the clock. It was only two o'clock in the morning. "Deities, I'm sorry, Bill. I didn't notice the time."

"It's fine. You want to tell me what your nightmare was about?" he inquired.

She smiled, realizing that his concern for her outranked his need for sleep. "I was at the cabin with you, at it started out nicely enough, with the sun coming in. But then you told me 'you can't hide from the things you've done.' I turned around and it was Leoben."

"Don't worry about that frakker. If he's anywhere in the fleet, he won't even get to see the other side of an airlock. He'll just be dead," Adama responded.

"I honestly don't think he's here, but the dream meant something," she expressed.

After a pause he spoke again, yawning. "If you want to come over and discuss this further-"

"No, I'll let you get back to sleep. I'm sorry I called. I was just so startled by it," she remarked.

"Don't apologize," his voice rumbled. "Do you feel better now that you've talked about it?"

"Yes, and thank you for listening," she relayed.

"It's no problem," he told her. They said goodnight to each other and the rest of the evening passed without further dreams or nightmares.

Before Roslin left Colonial One in the morning, Adama called her. Kara wanted to discuss the next set of coordinates with them and he felt that Roslin should be there. Later the two of them stood in front of the brig, facing the blonde woman. "Sir, Ma'am," she greeted pleasantly.

"Starbuck," Adama returned.

"Sir, I know the next set of coordinates. If I could have paper and something to write on…"

Roslin produced the necessary supplies. "Here you go."

"Thanks, Ma'am," the other woman returned.

She wrote for a while and then handed them the paper. "So you trust me now?"

"Yes. In fact, I'd like to let you out today. We'll explain your presence later, but for now you can work in CIC," Adama mentioned.

"It's just great to be back, Sir," she said with a wide grin.

Roslin walked from Kara's cell to Lee's. He sat on his cot, watching her. Slowly he rose. "Madame President, Admiral," he greeted.

Adama focused on his hands while Roslin faced Lee. "I know we've had our problems, but there isn't a legal reason to leave you in this cell. Would you like to leave as well?"

Lee glanced over at his father. "Admiral? What do you say?"

"You've apologized to the president. If she's altruistic enough to let you out, then you don't have to stay in here any longer," Adama relayed, maintaining his stoic expression.

"Sir, I also owe you an apology. I behaved badly in front of my commanding officer, and in front of my father. I know you're still angry with me, sir, but I would like to do something good for this fleet," Lee expressed.

Adama walked over to Lee's cell. "Trust is a hard thing to win back," he conveyed as he unlocked the door. Then Adama let Kara out and told her to report to CIC. She and Lee both left and Adama turned back to Roslin.

"Was that really the right idea?" he asked her.

She crossed her arms as they left that wing of the brig. "He needs to find his own way. I am still upset with him, but it's wrong to keep him locked up for that reason alone."

"Even so, I still don't like it," he stated. Then he headed to the other wing of the brig. "I wonder if that woman, Sonya Getani, managed to access the electronic pad yet."

"I had almost forgotten about that," Roslin mentioned.

When they stood in front of her cell, Sonya stood. "Hello Admiral, Madame President. Are you going to let me out now?"

"Did you access the pad?" Adama probed.

She handed it to him through the bars. "It's on, but I can't read it. It's either in a code or in another language."

"Thank you," Roslin told her.

"Can I get out now?" Sonya pursued.

The admiral sighed. "We checked out your story, the one about the brother. He died long before New Caprica. Then there's the problem of your ID and a lot of missing information. Until we can clear up the matter, you're staying here."

The small woman huffed and sat back down on her bed. Six stepped closer to them. "I'd like to help with something. Is there anything I might be able to do?"

"Not at the moment," the admiral said quickly.

Six furrowed her brow. "It's because of Gaius, isn't it? He hasn't been by to visit me. He hasn't tried to free me. You have no reason to suspect that he's had anything to do with me for quite a while," she mentioned.

"You'll have to give us a bit more time before we can trust you," Roslin explained.

"How can I prove myself?" Six implored.

"Like everything else lately, you'll have to give us time," Roslin responded as they left.

"I suppose we should head to Life Station now. I'd really like to know who's a Cylon and who isn't," she commented.

"You go on ahead. I'm going to take this to someone who might be able to translate it," Adama told her, walking off in the direction of the lab.

Figuring that he was taking the device to Baltar, she walked to Life Station, hoping that Adama did not tell Baltar too much. When she reached Life Station, she found the four people in question discussing different ways of using the Cylons' technology against them.

"-virus would send them into chaos," she heard Tory say.

"Hello. How are all of you this morning?" Roslin greeted with political ease.

"Fine, Ma'am. We were just discussing some strategies," the aide relayed.

Cottle stepped over toward the group, looking slightly past Roslin. "Where's Bill?"

"The admiral is on his way," she replied.

"I know why you're here. At the risk of repeating myself, I'd rather tell you both at the same time," he mentioned.

"That will be fine," she stated, wondering how things were going in the lab.

Adama entered and had once again startled Baltar. _That man really needs to drink decaff coffee_, Adama thought to himself. "Dr. Baltar, are you finished with the soil samples yet?"

The other man nodded nervously. "Yes, and I have another print-out. Wherever the sample was from, it's good soil for growing a great many things."

"Good. I've got a new job for you," Adama paused, removing the electronic pad from his pocket. "Translate this into something we can understand. It's either a code or another language."

Baltar took the pad and stared at it intensely. "Where's it from?"

"I'm afraid that's classified. Are you willing to decipher it?" Adama probed.

The dark-haired man nodded. "Yes. It should prove to be quite interesting."

Adama left, noticing that in the brief encounters he had with Baltar, the other man had not once mentioned the Six in the brig. For being her lover, he did not seem overly concerned about her.

Soon the admiral entered Life Station and Roslin motioned for him to join the others. As they stood in a circle, Cottle began to explain what he had learned. "I ran their blood through Baltar's test and the centrifuge. Both tests have confirmed that the four of them are Cylons. This other test here is for sound," Cottle explained, gesturing toward the box. It resembled a radio with knobs and a speaker. "There's a frequency that Athena helped me find that they can hear, but humans can't."

He turned a gray knob on the device. As he had expected, Tory, Anders, Tyrol, Tigh, and Athena placed their hands over their ears in discomfort. Turn off the ringing!" Tory exclaimed.

What no one expected in the room was Adama's reaction. He raised an eyebrow, looking at the device and then back at Cottle. "It's just static. Sounds like that low-grade static I've been trying to turn off."

Roslin's face was white as she looked at him. "Bill," she began quietly, "I can't hear anything. That's not static." Adama seemed to freeze, staring at the device as if it could sprout legs.

No one said a word for what could have been a solid five minutes. Tigh was the first of the others to face the admiral when Cottle turned off the device. "No frakking way. You can't be a Cylon. It must be somethin' else," his old friend concluded.

Noting that the admiral seemed too shocked to respond, Roslin stepped in. The president stood up straighter and walked toward the others. "I think the colonel is correct. The admiral will stay to have his hearing checked. Colonel, it would be appreciated if you could scan for any low-frequency subspace signals. Perhaps the Cylons are using one in a tracking device," she advised.

He nodded. "Yes, Ma'am."

She looked at the other four. "This meeting is confidential. I suggest that the rest of you return to your posts for now." She would see to it that a marine watched them later.

As the others left, Cottle turned to her. "You don't believe anything you just said, do you?"

Roslin sighed heavily. "We need to get to the bottom of this, Jack. The last thing we need is anyone else complicating the situation."

Adama felt as though the rug had been pulled out from under him. The room seemed out of focus as Roslin guided him to sit down on one of the beds. "I think the first thing to do is give him another blood test since the first one was stopped," Cottle remarked. He had heard about the Ellen Tigh Cylon scare.

While Cottle took the necessary blood sample, Adama remained motionless, his eyes fixed on a point slightly higher than the floor. Roslin sat down next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You have to snap out of this, Bill, we need you," she whispered.

(My thanks to max72, Mariel3, carolann, and caramelapples for reviewing :D)


	9. To be or not to be

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel. Allusions to _Razor_ and minisodes 4-6 are mentioned.

Chapter 9: To be or not to be

It slowly registered in his brain that she was next to him, trying to reach out to him. He turned his head toward her, a lost look in his eyes. "You have to snap out of this, Bill, we need you," he heard her say as her fingers curled around his left arm.

The world came back into focus for him as he looked past her and saw Cottle. "Admiral, I don't know what we've just discovered, but I'm going to test for every possible explanation before I concede to you being a Cylon."

"Then what can we do while we wait for the blood test?" Roslin inquired.

Adama craned his neck and rubbed the back of it with his right hand. "Why don't we see if you've got any muscle relaxant lying around?" he asked the doctor.

Roslin kept her focus on Adama's neck, remembering the dog's interest in it. Cottle pulled open a drawer to look for a tube of muscle relaxant. Out of the corner of her eyes Roslin spotted the ultrasound device. She turned to Cottle. "Jack, this is going to sound strange, but I want you to use the ultrasound on the admiral's neck."

Cottle raised an eyebrow. "I suppose that's one way to find out how his neck is doing."

He wheeled the device over to where the admiral sat. However, Roslin wanted to use it herself. "I have a hunch. Could you please hand the scanning part to me?" she requested.

"This had better be good," Cottle grumbled as he complied.

After Adama had removed his military jacket, Roslin moved the back of his tanks down a bit from the neck and rubbed some of the reacting cream for the ultrasonic device on it. She lightly placed her thumb against his neck and spine, slowly moving down to remember exactly where the dog had sniffed him. Then she placed the scanning device against the base of his brain stem. Cottle watched the monitor with interest.

"Young lady, remind me never to question your hunches again. There's something right where you had your thumb that's emitting electrical impulses," he observed. Then he looked over at her. "Would you mind switching on the sound test? I want to see something."

Roslin nodded and walked over to it. She did as he had requested. As he watched the monitor again, he exclaimed not too quietly, "What the frak?"

"What do you see?" Adama demanded.

"You can turn that off now," Cottle told Roslin. When she returned to the group, Cottle answered the admiral. "That sound caused whatever's at your brain stem to react. From what I can understand, that low-grade static you hear isn't the sound itself. What you're hearing is the thing in the back of your neck reacting to the other sound."

Adama's brow furrowed. "If that was supposed to make me feel better, it didn't work. Am I a Cylon or not?"

"That's still being determined. We need to figure out how this other thing was implanted. Aside from your open-heart surgery, have you had any other major surgeries?" Cottle probed.

"You remember the one I had after that accident with the Viper, the one that messed up my eye-sight. Other than that, I can't remember," Adama relayed.

Cottle lit a cigarette. "Too bad I'm running out of these. From the scan, it's like someone put a tracking device in you. Because of where it's located, something major had to have happened to you. There's also the mystery of density."

"What do you mean by 'density?'" Roslin inquired, rejoining Adama as he sat on the bed.

"Our ultrasonic device also measures bone density. A few inches below the thing in his neck as well as the rest of the above neck vertebrae have a different density than the rest of his spine," the doctor explained.

Adama stood and faced him, shrugging his jacket back on. "So you're telling me that someone somehow performed major surgery on me and implanted an electronic device in my neck? Why the hell didn't I notice it sooner?"

"How the hell should I know? It's your body!" Cottle retorted.

Roslin stepped over to them. "Did you ever hear the low-grade static before?" she asked Adama. The admiral shook his head. "When did you start hearing it?"

"Around the time the trial started," he mentioned.

The words of the Six came back to her as she recalled the comment that the device in CIC was moving. "And probably around the time the Colonel Tigh began hearing strange things?" she pursued.

He thought for a moment. "Yes."

"Then you probably didn't notice the device before because it was inactive," she deduced.

"That still doesn't explain how it got there in the first place," Adama reminded.

Cottle had been listening to them, quietly thinking as he puffed on his cigarette. "It could've been back there since the first Cylon war. Did anything happen to you that ended up 'off the record' in one way or another?"

The scientists and the ship with the Hybrid drifted back into his mind. "The ship that the Hybrid was on, the one that Kendra Shaw died on, do you remember that?" he asked the other two.

"Yes. It as a rescue mission for a few scientists. Starbuck was part of it too," Roslin recalled.

Adama removed his glasses, turning them over in his hands. "I was on that ship at the beginning of the first Cylon war," he began.

"How?" Roslin probed, her eyes widening.

"It was part of a building complex on a moon. I was in a dog fight with a raider and had to eject from my Viper. Before I pulled my parachute, a Cylon had also ejected and started to fight with me. Eventually I pulled the parachute. He fell through the building like a rock. Because I wasn't that high when I opened the parachute, I came in pretty fast myself, crash-landing into the building's roof. Then I destroyed the Cylon and looked around. I saw that thing in its tub, the Hybrid. It scared the living daylights out of me. There were body parts everywhere, as well as prisoners. I couldn't help them thought because the ship was taking off. I left and I don't remember much more about it. When I tried to tell my superior officers what I had seen, the told me to keep it off the record," Adama told them.

"Are you sure that's what happened?" Roslin questioned.

"As sure as I can be," the admiral replied.

"In that case, I don't have anything else for you at the moment. I should have the results by tomorrow, so don't you do anything stupid tonight before you're sure," Cottle ordered.

"I'll see that he doesn't," Roslin chimed in.

They left Life Station and walked silently to the admiral's quarters. After they had entered, Adama sat down on the couch, not looking up. She retrieved two glasses from the kitchen and filled them with water, taking one for herself and leaving the other one on the coffee table in front of him. Then Roslin called _Colonial One_.

"Tory? Oh good, I was hoping you had made it back by now. I need you to cancel the rest of today's appointments. Wait, better yet ask Zarek. Yes, that one too. They won't be put off anymore? Alright, I'll return in a few hours then and Zarek can take the rest. If they ask, I'm not feeling well. Thank you," Roslin said before hanging up. Then she headed back to Adama and the couch.

"Bill," she began, wanting to know what was running through his head.

"All this time, all these years and I've been a skin job," he fumed, still not facing her as he sat forward with his head in his hands.

She set her water on the table and placed her hands over his. "You had parents. You gave Lee your father's law books. How can you be a Cylon if you have a background?"

He looked up at her, pain in his eyes. "I don't know. Maybe Bill Adama did exist, but he was replaced."

"That is the most ridiculous argument I have ever heard. Bill! Look at me. You are not a Cylon. The dog hasn't barked at you," she argued, dropping her hands into her lap.

Adama stood and began pacing. "We don't know anything for a fact."

She took a sip of water and watched him. "When I first met you, I was willing to buy into the lie that you might be a Cylon. Now that I know you, I know that you would never willingly place this fleet in danger without good cause."

At her words, he stopped by his desk and faced her. "Don't you see? The Cylon attacks were my fault. New Caprica was my fault. Every big disaster we've run into, I played a part in. It's only a matter of time until the next one. For all we know, I have some programming that puts everyone in danger."

She stood and stormed over to him, shaking her right index finger. "Bill Adama, why won't you wake up and realize that none- and I mean none of that was ever your fault! Each one of those events took mistakes from other people to cause problems."

"Cylon or not, I've got what is probably a tracking device in my neck. You might have to airlock me. I could be dangerous. Maybe I'm leading this fleet into a trap or I'm leading the Cylons right to us," he expressed.

She crossed her arms, looking at him over the top of her glasses. "This is the second time you've tried to get out of your job. If you really don't want to be the admiral, you should just tell me rather than being so theatrical."

"I'm serious, Laura. If I'm a Cylon, then you have to airlock me. I will not be responsible for the destruction of this fleet," he remarked.

Sighing, she removed her glasses and set them down on his desk. "You can't ask me to do that, Bill. Would you ask Captain Agathon to send his wife out an airlock? I can't do it. I might as well be sending myself out there with you." The words had left her mouth before she had allowed time for consideration. She had used the first example that came to mind. _Deities, I just compared us to a married couple_, she realized, turning a way from him.

He reached out for her hand and walked her back to the couch. Everything had gone mad this time, he was sure of it. Her slip of comparing them to the Agathons had not gone unnoticed by him. _In another life, we would be living in a cabin right now instead of this perpetual state of war._ They drank their water silently for a while. "It never ends, does it?" he suddenly asked.

Roslin sighed heavily and rubbed her eyes, setting her glass of water on the table. This was life, bouncing from one problem to another, but it was wearing her out. _We both need a break from this_. "It's always something else. I'm so tired of this. Why are we still trying?"

He heard the defeat in her voice as he set his glass next to hers. "You can't give up hope."

"You are," she reminded him. "Give me a reason not to."

Earth was so close. The people needed her as their leader. Similar reasons ran the gambit through his mind, but he knew in his heart that those were not the reasons she wanted to hear. _I can't let you give up. I need you too much. You're what's keeping me going_. He reached over and gently cupped her face in his hands. She watched him with curiosity.

Having her attention, he spoke the only words that came to mind, his voice that comfortable rumble. "I love you."

She blinked, perplexed. It was not what she had expected at all, and from the depth of emotion reflected in his eyes, she could see how serious he was. "You love me?"

"I love you. I don't want you to give up hope," he conveyed.

"Oh Bill," she said quietly, her tone a mixture of wonder and sympathy. Dying again had left her with only one regret: that Bill Adama would be alone. "I love you too, so very much," she whispered.

Then his lips met hers not a second later. He kissed her warmly and she sighed, letting her hands slide around his neck. He moved his hands to her back and drew her closer. Finally able to uncork the bottle of their feelings, they kissed passionately. When they separated for air, he held her in a secure embrace. "But what if I'm a Cylon?" he whispered.

She looked up to face him, kissing him softly. "You're not. You'll just have to trust me. Even if you are, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

They sat together, holding each other for a while in comfortable silence. He shifted his position so that she would look at him. "Don't you have somewhere else to be? You usually have a busy schedule."

She smiled warmly. "I called Tory earlier, but you weren't in any shape to pay attention. Zarek will be acting like a vice president and covering for me today. I only have one meeting later that I can't get out of."

Adama chuckled. "I still don't trust him, but if he helps you, maybe he's not so bad after all."

"There are worse people to have as vice presidents. Several members of the press who think they know everything would collapse the whole system if they were anywhere else than where they are," Roslin remarked philosophically.

"That's probably true," Adama added. "What's the meeting you can't get out of?"

"The press wants to know about the level of resources compared to how quickly we expect to reach our destination. Someone let it leak that our food supply may only last us another four months," she explained.

He sighed, standing and setting his empty glass on his desk. "What were you planning on telling them?"

"As little as possible," she replied.

"The best we can tell them is that we are looking for other planets at the moment that might contain algae," he suggested.

"Just what I was thinking," she responded.

Suddenly the phone rang. He reached over to answer it. "Adama. Yes, she's here, hold on," he paused and handed the phone to Roslin. "It's for you."

She accepted the phone and began speaking. "Hello, Tory. They're waiting? Alright, tell them I'm on my way," Roslin told her aide before hanging up the phone. Then she turned back to Adama. "When you're the one in charge, you can't just ask for time off."

"Very true, which is why I should head back to CIC. I can't just stay here moping when I've got a job to do," he commented.

The admiral walked her to the door. Before opening the hatch, she turned back to him. "And no more guilt trips while I'm gone."

He smirked. "I'll try, Madame President."

She kissed him warmly and smiled. "You had better."

They stepped out of his quarters, but he stopped her before she could head toward the shuttle bay. "Why don't you stay on _Galactica_ tonight?"

She contemplated his offer for a moment. "That sounds reasonable," she stated. He watched her for a while, listening to the sound of her shoes echoing in the hallway. Once she had disappeared from view, he headed toward CIC, looking forward to finishing his earlier conversation with her.

(My thanks to Leliana McKay, Calico Star, carolann, hadizha, caramelapples, Reagan, and Ceridwyn2 for reviewing :D)


	10. Need to know basis

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.

Chapter 10: Need-to-know basis

As Adama stepped into CIC, Tigh looked over at him for a moment, as if to ask, _It's okay that I'm still here, right?_ Adama gave him a short nod as he neared the table in the center of the room. "I spoke to the security team and told them that the four of us being Cylons was a possibility so they'd watch for trouble instead of shooting first," Tigh relayed.

The admiral glanced over his shoulder, spotting one of the marines. "That's fine, I suppose. Have you found anything in the area giving off sounds?"

"Nope. How're you holding up?" Tigh asked quietly.

"I'll be better when I can get some answers," Adama responded. "I want you to try something different. We've been looking for signals present within the fleet. Could we try to scan for incoming signals?"

Tigh sighed as he glanced at his console. "This isn't the _Pegasus_. We've only got a narrow band frequency for picking up incoming subspace signals."

Adama's brow furrowed. "Let's keep making sure the Cylons aren't following us then."

Tigh nodded, but then looked over his shoulder at the sectioned-off glass area that Adama and Roslin would sometimes talk in. "You've got a guest," he mentioned.

The admiral followed his gaze and walked over to find Kara sitting in the room waiting for him. She stood and saluted when he entered. After he had returned her salute, she spoke. "Sir, I didn't want to just waltz into CIC without talking to you first. They're going to ask how I'm alive. What do you want me to tell them?" Kara inquired.

Adama recalled what Zarek had suggested, but his plan did not seem quite satisfactory. "I don't want you telling them you've found Earth; at least not until we've confirmed it. No matter what we say, it'll probably sound crazy, but I have an idea."

After they had decided on a story, Kara and Adama exited the glass area and walked out to the middle of the room. There were several gasps as the officers turned their heads toward their guest. The admiral spoke. "I'd like you all to welcome back Captain Thrace. Contrary to our scans, she did not die, but was pulled into a wormhole system. She has spent the last two months trying to find the fleet again. She'll be joining us to help with battle strategies against the Cylons."

Kara smiled as she followed him down to the table containing the model ships. "Thanks, Sir," she whispered. He gave her a brief nod and wondered how the president's meeting was progressing.

Tory met Roslin in the hall on the way to her meeting. Beginning to feel nauseous, Roslin was glad for the company. "Madame President, are you alright?" her aide inquired.

The older woman smiled calmly. "I will be when this is over."

As they entered the room, the reporters jumped up from their seats and cameras flashed everywhere, almost like weapon's fire. News had been scarce since the trial, so the reporters chased after anything of interest. Roslin nodded to Zarek, who was also present, and then put a hand up. "One at a time please."

"Madame President, is it true that we're running out of food?" one small blonde woman asked.

"No, Megan, we have not reached that state of urgency. With the Board of Nutrition, we shouldn't have to reach that state," Roslin replied, taking a seat.

A man with thick round glasses and a worn blue suit spoke next. "Ma'am, if we are low on food, how are we going to fix the problem?"

Roslin folded her hands in front of her and smiled. "Well Carl, we are scanning the area for another planet that could contain algae. If we find a planet of that sort, we will restock and then continue on our way."

"How close are we to reaching a planet?" a tall bony woman asked.

"There is no way to be certain at this point," the president answered.

"Ma'am, can you tell us how close we are to finding Earth? Is it months or weeks?" a chubby balding man with a thick blonde mustache asked.

She flinched inwardly. The question reminded her of the conference after the exposure in court when another reporter had asked her how long she had to live. "I cannot disclose that sort of information without first conferring with the admiral," Roslin replied confidently.

A woman with her hair in tight brown curls rose from her seat in the back. "Madame President," she began, speaking loudly, "we've heard rumors that Starbuck is alive. Can you confirm this? If this is true, where has she been for the last two months?"

Roslin masked the panic forming in her stomach and looked toward Tory. Oddly, her seat was empty. The aide had stood when the woman began her questions. As Roslin strained to look behind her, Tory returned. "Ma'am, you have a phone call."

The older woman gave Tory a small smile of relief. Then she stood and faced the reporters. "You'll have to excuse me. I'll see to your questions shortly," she stated before Tory led her off to the side, near the phone.

"Who called?" Roslin inquired.

Tory handed the phone to the older women. "No one. I thought you might want to take a minute and talk to the admiral."

Roslin nodded. "Good idea." Then she dialed CIC and waited.

After a moment, the phone was picked up. "Adama."

"Admiral, I have a problem. Is this a secure line?" she wondered.

There was a pause and then she heard his voice again. "It is now. What did you need?"

"I've got reporters here who know that Captain Thrace is back. What should I tell them?" Rosin requested.

Adama told her how he had explained it to CIC. "I hope that helps."

"It does, Bill. Thank you," she relayed.

Something in her tone led him to ask the next question. "What else do they want to know?"

Roslin sighed. "Oh, the usual. How soon until we reach Earth? And, as I told you before, they've asked about the food."

"My offer for dinner still stands. As soon as I finish my shift, we can eat," he reminded.

"I'll join you, but at the moment I really wish it was something other than algae. I wouldn't mind cornflakes," she mentioned.

He chuckled. "Then I'll make it a mission to find the president the last box of cornflakes in the fleet. Every backpack and pocket will be inspected."

She laughed with him and the tension in her shoulders decreased slightly. "You do that. Finding cornflakes is going to be impossible; finding milk to go with them is going to take divine intervention."

"I promise I'll come up with something that isn't in its paste form," he relayed.

"Then I'll see you at dinner," she ended. As she looked back at her aide, Tory tried to conceal a smirk. Roslin let a half-smile slip through before she straightened her jacket and regain a business-like composure.

Then she returned to the press. "Captain Thrace is alive, and I promise you that she is fully human. She has spent the last two months trapped in a wormhole system and has managed by luck of the Deities to find us again. That is all."

As she hurried out the door, Zarek caught up with her. "Wherever you're going, I'm following. There are some things you need to be updated on."

"Of course, Tom," she responded as they hurried through the halls with Tory following.

They stopped in front of the admiral's quarters. Roslin opened the door and let Tory in, but Zarek hesitated. "We lost the press a couple of turns ago. If we head to the boardroom, they'll be waiting for us. Here they aren't likely to look," she mentioned. Reluctantly he followed her in.

"If he catches me in here-"

"You're the vice president and I invited you. Now what is this about?" she asked.

The three of them stood around the desk as he continued. "I managed to ask around and I found some information on the Getani woman. She's a computer programmer who decided to infiltrate a casino on Geminon. She was telling the truth about being a Sagittarian, but she spent the later half of her life on Geminon. No one knew what she was doing until she reprogrammed the slot machines. When you get greedy, you get caught. She was probably hiding on one of the vessels, running from the law when the Cylons attacked. Most people didn't know who she was, so it made it easier to start a new life."

Roslin put her hands in the pockets of her skirt and looked back at him. "What should we do with her then?"

Zarek smirked at her uncertainty. "I seem to remember a president making an offer of manual labor to a bunch of hardened criminals, in exchange for slowly earning their freedom. Why not assign her some form of community service? I'm sure you'll find a place for her soon enough."

"Madame President, it would be a better idea than keeping her in a cell," Tory added.

"I'll have to discuss that with the admiral. Thank you, Tom," she responded.

He took a step toward the door, but then turned back. "I know Lee Adama's out of the brig."

Roslin's eyes widened. "How in the universe do you know all of this?"

"Let's just say I have good sources," he said with a smirk. "My point is that I'd be willing to take him on as an assistant. Frankly I've got a lot on my plate these days and I could a little help."

The nausea was creeping back. She placed one hand on the desk to steady herself, hoping that Zarek would not notice her discomfort. "You'll have to ask him about that. Presently I don't know where he is."

"In that case, I'll be going. Take care of yourself, Laura," he stated, having seen something, but not sure as to what it was in her face.

"You too, Tom," she returned.

He left and Tory handed her a glass of water. "Perhaps you should sit down," she suggested.

Roslin slipped off her glasses and took a seat on the couch. "Thank you, Tory."

Tory looked toward the door and then back at Roslin, shifting from one foot to the other. "Ma'am, if I'm no longer needed…"

"Go, and thank you for your help. Don't forget to take a marine with you. And if you should find Sam Anders, tell him that I would like to speak with him tomorrow. It's time he learned that his wife is alive," Roslin relayed. There was a hesitation before Tory nodded, as if she was contemplating telling Anders.

As her aide left, Roslin glanced down at the desk, noticing that some of the files were halfway out of their folders. She lifted up a few and shoved them back into place, giving them an orderly look. But as she rustled through a few papers, she spotted Adama's binary code doodle. Deciding that he would not mind if she borrowed it, she removed it from the stack and placed it in her papers by the couch.

When Adama's shift ended, he headed back to his quarters, thinking about what to fix for dinner. As he opened the hatch, he found Roslin dosing in the couch, curled up on one end with her shoes off. He smiled, walking over to her and placing a few hairs behind her ear. She blinked and smiled at him. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself. How did everything go?" he inquired.

She stretched. "I gave them what I was willing to. They tried to follow me for a while, but I lost them after a point before I ducked in here."

"If they ever show up at my door for an interview, they're going to find themselves looking at the other side of a cell," he relayed.

"I think they know that," Roslin said with a smirk. Adama headed toward the kitchen and she followed him.

"I can't promise cornflakes, but I can try a few new recipes if you'd like," he offered.

"Sure," she responded. "By the way, after the meeting, Zarek updated me on some information about the woman in the brig." She went on to tell him about the casino.

"Makes sense. If she's that good at computers though, she should've been able to decipher the electronic pad after turning it on."

"What did she tell you?" Roslin asked as they found a recipe from a few notes that looked edible.

He located the other ingredients as they continued speaking. "She said she couldn't translate it. It thought it was strange too. If it was from Earth, it's possible that their binary code is different from ours."

She boiled two cups of water. "Speaking of binary code, maybe you should have her look at your doodle."

His brow furrowed while he scrunched the algae paste into a processor that made noodles. "I'd rather forget about that. It's a reminder that I don't know what I am at the moment."

"Bill, it could be important," she argued.

He tightened his grip on the salt shaker as he picked it up to salt the water. "Not today."

She rested a hand lightly on his forearm. When he turned to face her, he set the salt shaker down. "Whatever we face, Bill, we face together."

He drew her into a hug. "I'm tired of uncertainties."

"Sometimes what we don't know is better than what we do because it allows for hope," she stated.

She was hiding something, of that, he was sure. He could almost feel it, but he let it go, figuring that it would come up within the next few days anyway. Before they parted, he kissed the top of her head. Dinner was composed of green noodles and sauce. Despite everything being green, Roslin smiled as she took a bite.

"Again, dinner is actually pretty good," she complimented.

He grinned, swirling the noodles around his fork. "Maybe I missed my calling."

She chuckled softly. "Are you trying to get out of your job again?"

"Not this time. I'm afraid I couldn't cook for more than a small dinner party. Cooking for a whole Battlestar would be a green nightmare. And I cook better with you around," he added. "I don't think the fleet would be happy if both of its leaders resigned to be cooks."

The giggly started, slowly at first, but then it bubbled out like it had during her preparation for the debate so long ago. "I just got the funniest mental picture: the two of us… in aprons… covered in green spatter… posing for photos."

Seeing her giggle, he laughed with her. "Now that would be worth seeing."

Later when the dishes had been cleaned up, they sat together on his couch, drinking small glasses of Ambrosia. He smiled at her, seeing her reclining on two cushions of the couch in a feline pose. "Laura, what were we like at the cabin? What sorts of things did we do?"

"Bill, it was an illusion," she pointed out, scooting over so that she only took up the farther cushion.

"I'm just curious as to what you imagined," he replied, leaning forward slightly and placing his hands on his knees.

She took a sip of her Ambrosia and smiled nostalgically. "You and I were very close, like we were at the groundbreaking ceremony. I taught my classes, and you," she paused to face him, "you helped with history, both past and current. And you had a boxing club."

He chuckled. "Did people actually learn anything?"

"Of course they did," she remarked, swatting his arm playfully.

"How did we end up with the dog?" he inquired.

Digger padded out of the kitchen, making himself visible to her again. "He was just there. We found him when we were building the cabin, sunning himself on the site for the porch."

He smiled, but she watched as he looked at the far wall and took a deep breath. _Should I still ask this, or just let it go to what we have now? I'd still like to know_, he decided. "How close were we?"

She studied her hands. "You might not want the answer to that question yet."

"Why not?" he probed, facing her again.

"It's… I mean, well, it wasn't real," she stammered.

He put one of his hands on top of hers. "It was to you."

She leaned back against the couch. "We were… as close as two people can be who share the same house, and the same bed."

He was quiet for a moment. _Are you upset with me? I had a relationship with you, but it wasn't you_, she worried. "Bill."

Then he smiled at her and she felt the weight lift off her shoulders. "So you took me up on the offer of 'one of my beds' before I made it? In that case, we have some catching up to do," he teased.

She smirked and finished her drink. "Another time, mister. I really need a good night's sleep."

"So say we all," he commented, standing and then offering her a hand. She accepted and they walked over to his door. "Goodnight, Bill."

"Goodnight, Laura," he responded. They smiled again and shared a sound kiss as he wrapped his arms around her. "You can have my bed and I'll sleep on the couch," he whispered.

The offer really was tempting, but she stepped back. "Thank you, but I need to go."

As she left his quarters, she smiled down at the dog that followed her, and then looked back to see him still standing in the doorway. He smiled and she smirked, shaking her head. Once in the guest quarters, she dressed for bed and sleep claimed her quickly, due to the day's activities and the alcohol.

_She and Adama were out in the garden. Digger was rolling around in the flowerbed and she was scolding him. Adama laughed at the dog's antics, watching as he rose from the flowerbed and wagged his tail, circling Roslin's legs. Then the dog dropped down on the grass, lying belly-up, hoping to be pet._

"_What am I going to do with you, you silly dog!" Roslin exclaimed, leaning down to pet Digger._

_Adama chuckled. "He's going to need a bath before we let him in the house."_

_Suddenly the dog tackled her to the ground and licked her face, getting mud and flower petals on her clothes. "It looks like I'm going to need a bath too."_

_The dog went off to chase a yellow butterfly and she sat up, dusting herself off. _

_He offered her a hand. She accepted and when she was standing, she spotted a mischievous glint in his eyes. "That's not a bad idea," he stated._

_She eyed him with suspicion. "What are you-"_

_He wrapped an arm around her waist and cut her off with a kiss. "Race you to the pond."_

_To her surprise, he darted away from her and broke into a run off into the woods. "You won't be able to outrun me for long, mister," she called out, running in after him._

_As she entered the woods though, the forest looked more like the one on Kobol. A sharp pain in her stomach caused her to put a hand against a tree for support. Then Kara walked out from behind another tree. "There you are. Come with me."_

_She followed Kara past a few more trees. "Where are we going?"_

_"We're almost there," the blonde woman replied._

_They stopped at the edge of a cliff. Roslin glanced past it to see a swirling mess of clouds. "What is that?"_

_Kara extended her hand. "Do you trust me?"_

_Roslin tentatively took the other woman's hand. "Yes but- you're not going to jump, are you?"_

_"Come with me," Kara told her, pulling her toward the edge of the cliff. "All is not as it seems."_

_"But I wasn't meant to see Earth. The prophecy-"_

_"There's more to it than that," Kara stated, needing to raise her voice as the storm thundered below them._

_"Come with me," Kara repeated._

_"I can't." Suddenly the pain in Roslin's stomach increased. She dropped to her knees, breaking away from Kara._

Roslin woke in bed, the sharp pain in her stomach present, as well as the nausea. She scrambled toward the small bathroom and expelled the contents of her stomach. She used her travel mouthwash and tried to splash water on her face as the black dog stood next to her and whined. The room spun and she lost her grip on the sink. She landed on the cool floor, her surroundings fading. The last thing she heard was the dog howling.

Adama woke and looked around his dark quarters. Something did not feel right. He sat up and reached for the light switch, listening for a possible problem. Though he heard nothing and everything looked like it was in order, the feeling that something was wrong continued to bother him.

The phone suddenly rang and he reached for it. "Adama."

"Admiral, sir," Kara's voice began. "It's going to sound crazy, but it's important. I think you need to check on the president."

(My thanks to Grammar Maven, Reagan, carolann, Mariel3, and Calico Star for reviewing :D)


	11. Caring

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.

Chapter 11: Caring

"Thanks, Kara," Adama said before hanging up. Only taking time to throw his uniform pants over his boxers and throw on his boots, tucking the laces in rather than tying them, he dashed out of the door, in the direction of the guest quarters, grabbing his set of master keys.

Roslin's security detail stood outside. They stepped aside to let the admiral knock. "Madame President." He knocked a second time, then a third. Seeing no easy alternative, he used a master key and let himself in.

The bed looked slept in, sheets curled in a pool, a blanket on the floor, but he did not see her. Then he noticed the bathroom light off to the right. He rushed over and found her in a nightgown, lying on the bathroom floor, curled up and holding her stomach. Cold fear gripped him as he kneeled down and checked her pulse. "Laura!" he called out.

Her only response was a moan. He scooped her up in his arms, ignoring the shocked looks of her security detail. "I'm taking her to Life Station. Would one of you please alert Dr. Cottle?" he requested. They nodded and he continued his trek.

Cottle was standing at the door when they arrived. "What in the gods' names happened this time?"

"I don't know. I found her like this," Adama explained.

"Follow me," Cottle said, motioning toward an empty bed.

Adama sat her on the bed and she blinked a few times. "Bill? What am I doing here?"

"I found you on the bathroom floor. What happened?" he questioned.

She closed her eyes for a moment, still feeling ill. "I was dreaming and in the dream I had stomach pains. I woke up suddenly, feeling sick. I threw up, but after that I felt dizzy. I remember being on the floor, hearing the dog howl. And then I was here."

"What was the last thing you ate?" Cottle probed, taking a blood sample.

"Noodles," she replied.

Adama cleared his throat. "Actually it was Ambrosia."

Cottle poked at the president's stomach to locate the pain. The admiral thought he heard the doctor mutter, "Gods, I'm surrounded by morons" before speaking to them. "One of the side affects of diloxin is loss of appetite, along with the nausea. I've already been on her case for not eating enough. Because of that, the stomach acids are already overactive. The alcohol in what she drank reacted a bit with everything else and basically the stomach acids are beginning to corrode the lining of the stomach," he paused and looked directly at Roslin. "I can give you something for it, but absolutely no more alcohol for you."

"Understood," she told him.

Cottle walked over to his supply cabinet to look for something to help the pain, as well as a nutritional mixture for an IV while Adama stayed with Roslin. He was standing to the right of her bed as he gently grasped her right hand in both of his. "Why didn't you tell me you felt sick?"

She looked over at him, seeing the worry in his eyes. "At dinner, I really didn't think it was that bad. I felt better after I ate, and then I went to bed. Sit, please. It's odd having you stand there like that."

He released her hand and obliged her, sitting on the edge of the bed so that he faced her. "I want you to tell me when you don't feel well."

She folded both of her hands in her lap. "Bill, my health is my prob-"

"No. You told me 'we're in this together.' That means everything," he argued, cupping her left cheek with his right hand.

His thumb brushed her cheek and she closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she found herself looking directly into his. "Okay." Then she perceived his appearance, uniform pants and his tanks, untied boots. "You look like you jumped out of bed to get me."

"I did," he stated, his hands covering hers.

"But how did you know?" she questioned.

He sighed. "Kara called me. Would you happen to know why she wanted me to check on you?"

Her eyes closed again as she pushed another wave of nausea down. "There was a dream. She wanted me to follow her, off a cliff into some kind of storm. I couldn't. I just froze."

As they had been talking, Cottle had watched them. Adama moved from standing next to the bed to sitting on it. Then he touched her face. The next thing Cottle noticed was the two of them holding hands. _Something's changed_, he mused, having assembled the necessary medication.

"Alright you two, I need to give my patient a few things," Cottle began. Adama quickly stood and the doctor turned to Roslin. "I've got an IV for you so we can get some nutrients into your system. And then I have something for your stomach problems, and something to help you sleep. You're going to stay here for the rest of the night for observation," he explained as gave her an injection of medication.

Once the IV was in place on her arm and she was settled, Cottle faced the admiral. "If you've got anything to say to her, make it quick. She'll be asleep soon, and she is not- I repeat not to be disturbed."

Adama nodded and walked back over to Roslin. "Go back to bed, Bill. I'll be alright."

He took one of her hands in his again as he sat down on the bed. "I'm already up. What's a few more hours anyway?"

"You're just making an excuse to keep sharing a bed with me," she teased.

He chuckled. "You keep making jokes like that, and I'll start thinking they're offers."

She yawned and closed her eyes. "Very funny, mister. Too bad I couldn't catch up to you at the pond. Swimming would've been fun."

"This has something to do with your dream, doesn't it?" he asked. But the medicine was already taking affect as her breathing evened out.

As he stood to let her sleep, he met the questioning gaze of the doctor. "Is there anything I should know?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Adama responded.

Cottle would have questioned him further, but Kara soon staggered into Life Station with Lee's right arm draped over her shoulders. His face was bleeding and he would soon have two black eyes. He still wore his boxing gloves while Kara's were draped over her other shoulder. Adama stood and he stalked over to them along with Cottle.

"What is it with you people tonight?" the doctor complained.

"I swear I found him like this," Kara said quickly.

"Let's get you cleaned up and assess the damages," Cottle remarked, leading Lee over to one of the beds.

Kara looked up at Adama. "I couldn't sleep after calling you, so I went to the gym. I found him there, getting his butt kicked by three guys who weren't too happy with him for Baltar's trial."

Adama's gaze had not strayed from his son. "I was afraid something like this might happen. When you defend the wrong side, you make enemies, not friends."

"Yep. How's the president?" Kara inquired, drawing Adama's attention back to her.

"She'll be alright," he responded. Then he realized something. "Why did you call me?"

The blonde woman began to pace. "I had this dream. I was asking her to come with me. She said she couldn't, and then she collapsed, clutching her stomach."

"Do you know what the dream means?" he asked.

She shook her head. "The only thing I'm sure of is that I'm the second guide and I'm supposed to lead you all to Earth."

Adama looked over as Cottle checked Lee's ribs. "How did you know what coordinates to give us when you came back?"

"It's some sort of instinct. I don't have anything scientific to back it, but I just know," she relayed.

"Do you have any more coordinates?" he inquired.

She nodded. "I get them as we move closer. I have a gut feeling that I'll have another set sometime in the next day." She looked over her shoulder at the sleeping form of the president, and then back to him. "Sir, since we're going to be here a while, why don't I call the mess for some coffee?"

"That sounds good," he replied.

As she headed toward the phone, Cottle approached him. "You can see him if you want. He's lucky, scrapes and bruises mostly, and a few cracked ribs. Nothing too serious."

Adama nodded and walked toward his son. Lee had an icepack over his eyes to reduce the swelling and his chest was wrapped. "Do I want to know what this is about?" Adama inquired.

Recognizing his father's voice immediately, Lee grimaced, which did not help the pain his face was already feeling. "Let's just say it, I frakked up again. I couldn't sleep, just wanted to get out some energy in the ring. Then three, maybe it was four guys came out of nowhere. Must've been there already. They didn't like where I stood at the trial and decided to tell me about it with their fists."

"I'm sorry," Adama responded.

"Starbuck found me and now I'm here. She told the other guys, 'Frak off and mind your own business before I come back and kick all of your asses,'" Lee added.

Adama smirked. "I'll bet she did. Zarek wants to offer you a position as his assistant.

Lee snorted, but then winced at the pain. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah. I know you're not happy in the military and you've been looking for a change," his father remarked.

"You really think I should take it?" the younger Adama asked.

"It's up to you," Adama replied.

Both were silent for a moment. Adama was about to walk away when Lee spoke again. "Dad, what are you doing here? Did Starbuck call you after she brought me in?"

"Actually I was already here," Adama answered.

Lee's mouth pursed in concern. "Are you… I mean what are you-"

"The president isn't feeling well," the elder Adama commented. "I'm going to let you rest."

"That's fine," Lee responded. Adama took a few steps away. "And Dad," Lee added.

His father stopped again. "Yeah?"

"Thanks."

A small smile slanted over Adama's mouth. "You're welcome."

As he left Lee to sleep, he watched as Kara greeted a man at the door who held a coffee pot. Adama went to find a few paper cups that Cottle still had sitting around. Soon he and Kara sat in two chairs, each with a cup of coffee in their hands. "I spoke with Lee. He was ambushed."

"Did he want you to call Dualla?" Kara inquired.

Adama took a drink of his coffee. "No, and I wouldn't expect him to."

Kara followed suit and stared down at the cup for a moment. "Lee wouldn't tell me anything. Why isn't Dualla around?"

The admiral looked out in front of him, focusing on nothing in particular. "They got a divorce."

"Oh."

"Have you spoken to Anders yet?" Adama questioned.

Kara shook her head. "I'm not sure what to say to him. He probably doesn't know I'm alive yet. It's been hard enough telling you that I thought I was only gone for a couple of hours."

Adama weighed his next question carefully. Then he turned to face her. "Where do you stand with my son?"

She licked her lips, trying to formulate a response. Slowly she looked him in the eyes. "I'm not sure at the moment, sir, but I care very much about him. I don't want to see him hurt. And then here I go, continuing to complicate things. I never meant to cause-"

"It's alright, I get the picture. From what I see, you're the one keeping him out of trouble. You might've put more strain on his relationship with Dee, but the truth is that there was already a problem. You were just another straw, not the cause," Adama told her.

Staring down into her cup again, she remarked, "That doesn't make it any easier to accept," she stated. "I'm still a frak-up."

He put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You're not a frak-up, and for the record I'm glad to have you back."

A bright smile creased her face as she looked up at him. "Thanks, sir."

After finishing his coffee, he glanced at his watch, 0600. "You'd better hurry and get some breakfast if you want to make your shift in CIC."

"Yes, sir," she responded, standing and heading for the door.

"Starbuck," he called after her. He continued when she turned back. "What do you hear?"

"Nothing but the rain, sir," she answered.

"Then grab your gun and bring in the cat," he told her. She saluted him and headed on her way.

He walked back toward Roslin's bed. "Laura?" he called softly.

She stirred, hearing him. "Bill?"

"I need to get ready for my shift. Would you like me to call Tory and make sure she brings you a fresh change of clothes?" he offered.

Roslin moved to sit up, blinking as she brushed off the last bits of sleep. Then she met his gaze and smiled at him. As he looked into her eyes, he felt forgiven for the first time since Baltar's trial. "Yes, thank you. Have you been here since you brought me in?"

"Yes. Lee had an incident at the gym and Kara brought him in. Then she and I talked for a while," he explained.

"I'm thinking of having a chat between Kara, and Anders later. There are some things that should be resolved," Roslin remarked.

Adama nodded and then leaned down to her. They shared a tender kiss and then he walked toward the door. Cottle stopped him though before he could leave. "I need to know something."

The admiral had a suspicion where the conversation would go, but answered, "What would that be?"

"It was lucky you got to her as fast as you did. Was she staying in your quarters?" the doctor probed.

"No," Adama answered plainly.

"I'm not trying to pry, but I can see you two are close. I'm bringing this up because if she were to stay with you, I know you'd keep an eye on her to make sure she takes care of herself. She specifically requested that I don't discuss her condition with you, and I'm not. I'm only suggesting that you keep her as close as possible to watch her," Cottle explained.

Adama eye him curiously. "Don't tell me you're playing cupid now."

Cottle rolled his eyes. "I never said anything about you being in the bed with her. I only told you to watch her."

The admiral snorted and then left, heading to his quarters to first call Tory, who had been on Colonial One, then to shower and change for work. He arrived at CIC on time, greeting Kara and Tigh with a nod.

While Adama began his day, Cottle disconnected Roslin from the IV as Tory arrived in Life Station. "Madame President, what happened?" the aide asked, her voice edged with worry.

Roslin put a hand up. "I'm fine, I just need to watch what I eat and when I eat. Do you have my clothes?"

"Right here, ma'am," Tory stated, handing her a brown paper bag.

She headed back toward the guest quarters to shower and change. Once she had prepared herself for the day, Tory discussed her schedule. "You have a meeting with the Quorum, as well as the Board of Nutrition, followed by a conference with the Virgonese delegates over suggestions they have for the new education programs."

_I should have her pencil in a nap_. "In that case, once I've finished with the Virgonese delegates, I want to inform Mr. Anders that his wife is alive. I would like her present, as well as yourself," Roslin commented.

"Yes, ma'am," Tory said quietly.

During her meeting with the Board of Nutrition, she was informed that the ships would jump to a new set of coordinates. After the jump, she called CIC, requesting that Kara should come to the admiral's quarters later to speak with Anders. Kara arrived first, giving the president a pleasant smile as the older woman sat at the admiral's desk.

"How are you feeling, ma'am?" Kara inquired.

"Fairly good, thank you," Roslin responded. "Was today's jump your idea?"

Kara nodded. "I was able to give the admiral another set of coordinates. We're one jump closer to Earth."

"That's good news. Have a seat until the others come," Roslin responded.

A few minutes later, Anders and Tory walked into the room. "You wanted to see me, Madame President?" Anders asked, his gaze only on Roslin.

"Yes. It seems that you were not informed of someone's return," she began, gesturing to Kara.

Anders' eyes widened. "Holy frak! Kara, we thought you died! What happened?" he questioned, dashing over to her and attempting to draw her into an embrace. She let him, but then stood and stepped away from him.

Tory had stepped out in the hall, feeling like the proverbial 'third wheel.' Kara faced Anders, smiling cordially. "I found Earth."

"That's great! When we get there, I swear Kara, things will be different," he exclaimed.

Kara raised an eyebrow. "Are you telling me that you still want there to be an 'us?'"

"Yeah, but things will be better," he mentioned.

She shook her head. "I can't do this anymore, Sam. It's hurting you and I can't be what you want me to be. I have things I need to do, and it'll cause us problems again."

He reached out and gently grasped her upper arm. "I don't care. Stop pushing me away."

Roslin considered stepping in, but then Kara shook herself free of him and took another step back. "Sam, listen to me. You and me, it needs to be over. I'm too much trouble and you don't need it."

"Stop telling me what I need. All of us are in trouble up to our ears. It doesn't matter anymore," he shot back.

Kara crossed her arms, turning to look at Adama's bookcase. "It wasn't right from the start. I only married you because I was running away from my problems, like I always do."

Anders stepped in front of her so that she would look at him. Tory decided to come back inside in that moment. "Isn't divorcing me running away again?"

"No, Sam. I'm facing my problems head-on. I'm sorry, but we're over. It's for the best," Kara remarked.

He said nothing, but stormed out of the room, Tory running after him to keep up. Kara sank into the couch and the president moved from the desk chair to sit next to her. Roslin reached out and gently touched Kara's forearm. "Sometimes doing what's right hurts. It doesn't get any easier with age either. But as you get older, you prioritize differently. What used to matter when you were young doesn't matter as much anymore."

Kara sighed heavily, looking back at the older woman. "And what are your priorities, Madame Pres.?"

Roslin leaned back and crossed her knees. "To lead humanity to Earth, to protect those same people whatever their personal opinions may be-"

"And to keep an eye on the Old Man?" Kara asked with a smirk.

Roslin blushed. "Yes."

"You love him, don't you?" Kara inquired.

_Just like Bill, you don't pull your punches_. As personal as the question was, what Roslin had just witnessed of Kara's life made the entire tone of the conversation personal. "Very much."

After the younger woman left, Roslin pulled out one of her folders to remember where she had placed the binary doodle. After confirming its location, she stood and headed in the direction of the brig to find the only two people who might be able to tell her what it meant.

(My thanks to Calico Star, caramelapples, Tchitchina, carolann, max72, Leliana McKay, and Reagan for reviewing :D)


	12. The Guardian

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.

Chapter 12: The Guardian

Adama had the crew scan the area again for Cylon activity after Kara had left. The data reported nothing out of the ordinary, but the lack of activity only fueled his worry about possibly being a Cylon. Then he heard it again, the low-grade static. He looked over at Tigh.

"Saul, scan for low-grade static," he requested.

"Yes, sir," the colonel replied, turning his attention to his console.

While Tigh attempted to scan the area, Adama picked up another report to examine fleet supplies. Pencil in hand, he jotted down a few notes. Then his concentration shifted and he began doodling again. To Tigh, it looked as though the admiral was taking copious notes on something. "Admiral. Admiral," Tigh called.

Adama looked up. "Hmm?"

"We're still not picking up anything," the XO relayed.

The admiral nodded and glanced down at the folder he had been looking at. Binary code covered three entire pages. _What the frak is going on? This is getting ridiculous_. As he turned back to watching the viewscreen and the DRADIS, he hoped that Roslin's day had gone better than his.

Roslin entered the brig, followed by her security detail. Six looked up in surprise. Sonya stood and straightened her clothes. "Madame President, please tell me you have good news," Sonya requested.

The president folded her hands, files pressed in front of her. "Actually I need to ask you about that electronic pad the admiral had you look at. I found it… confusing why you were unable to translate the device. I mean, there are backdoors to almost anything and if you claim to know about computers, it simply struck me as odd. Why couldn't you translate it?"

Sonya took a deep breath and stepped back from the bars. "It's not that simple. I mean, in theory, you would be right, but not in this case. Whatever binary code that thing is using, it's different from ours."

"Are you really able to read binary code?" Roslin asked, standing directly in front of Sonya's cell.

"Yes," the small woman responded adamantly.

Roslin pulled a paper from the folder and handed it to her. "What is this then?"

Sonya's eyes ran back and forth over it a few times. Holding the paper, she sank down onto the bed in her cell. After a while, she looked up at the president. "I would need a pencil and paper to accurately explain this, but from what I see, this is some sort of command code."

"For what?" Six asked, intrigued by the conversation.

"You said it was a command code. Is it like a general system code, or a manual override of something?" Roslin probed.

Sonya shook her head. "'Command code' was the wrong word. I meant 'master code,' like the master key to a door. This paper is the master code for system access."

"Which system?" the president interrogated.

The small woman handed the paper back to Roslin. "I don't know."

Six moved closer to them. "I know you don't trust me, but may I see it?"

Roslin studied the tall blonde Cylon, her brow furrowing in scrutiny. Then she decided that it could not hurt and handed the paper over to her. Six read it and gasped. "Where did you get this?"

"I can't reveal that at the moment," Roslin replied. "Why?"

The Cylon sighed. "It was supposed to be a legend. This could only have come from the Guardian."

Roslin crossed her arms. "Please, elaborate."

Six walked from one end of the cell to the other. "The One from whom we all evolved had a plan. Though it was unclear of exactly what his plan was, all Cylons understand pieces of it. However, those pieces are open to interpretation. The humans are part of it, but it's vague. The Guardian is said to have been given the means to control the Cylons if the plan of the One has failed, or if the Cylons have rejected the plan."

The president contemplated her next question, careful not to say anything other than what she wanted to. "Is this 'Guardian' a Cylon?"

Six blinked. "I suppose it's logical that you would ask that. No, the Guardian is said to be one of the humans."

"What else?" Roslin probed, knowing that there was more to this legend.

"All of the Cylons are aware of the legend, but few believe it," the blonde Cylon mentioned.

Roslin walked the length of the brig before turning back. "So your creator used a human as a check to make sure his creation didn't get out of line?"

"Yes. The One also touched him so that the Guardian would not be far away and could watch the movements of the others."

"Touched him how?" Roslin interrogated.

Six sat down on the bed. "I don't know, but it was foretold that the Guardian would accompany the Final Five."

Roslin would have asked more, but one of her marines told her that Cottle had called for her. She held the phone in her hand. "I just called the admiral. His blood tests are finished and I thought you'd want to be up here when I tell him the results," Cottle informed her.

"Yes, doctor, I would. Thank you," she responded, leaving the brig.

As she entered Life Station, her gaze momentarily faltered upon seeing the admiral. _I wonder how he'll take the news when I tell him what I've done this time_, she thought to herself. He smiled politely at her, his brow furrowing in slight worry as he waited to hear what Cottle had to say.

She smiled back and then noticed the folder in his other hand. "How was your day?"

He glanced at the folder and sighed. "It could've gone better. Yours?"

"About the same. Kara broke it off with Anders, and I haven't seen Tory since," she remarked.

"Your aide went AWOL?" he asked with a smirk.

"You could say that. Where is Jack? I thought he had your results," Roslin mentioned.

Adama looked past the beds and the orderlies. "I think one of the interns called him away to look in on a surgery."

She followed his gaze. "That's understandable. Is Lee still here?"

"I think so," he responded. The admiral moved to where Lee had been earlier that morning and found his son sitting up, moving the ice pack on his head from one eye to the other.

"Mr. Adama, Vice president Zarek would like a word with you when you're up to it," Roslin began.

"Dad told me earlier. I've been thinking about it all day. Doc had me stay here so I wouldn't get into any more trouble," Lee admitted.

"Can you see?" Adama inquired.

"Not well, but it's only because I can't open my eyes wide enough," Lee paused, wanting clarity on a few things. "Dad, about the trial, I said things to you that I shouldn't have."

Adama patted his son's shoulder. "Regret goes both ways."

"I'm sorry," Lee responded.

"I know, and I forgive you. No matter what you do, you're still my son," Adama stated.

Lee smiled, moving the ice pack, attempting to blink so that he could see his father. The admiral was a fuzzy blob. "Thanks." Then he tried to look at the blur past his father. "Madame President, are you still there?"

She gave him a small smile. "Yes."

"How have you been? Dad said you weren't feeling well earlier this morning," Lee inquired.

Roslin raised an eyebrow at Adama, who simply shrugged. Then she turned back to Lee. "I'm alright."

Adama noticed the folder in her hand and wondered what she had left out, regarding her day. "Did you happen to learn anything else about the woman in the brig?"

She shifted from one foot to the other. "Not much. I did stop by to ask her about the translation. Apparently she can read binary code, but the setup of that device wasn't something she was used to. As much as I hate to suggest it, maybe we should have her working with Baltar to figure it out."

"Mind if I ask who's in the brig?" Lee probed.

The other two turned back to him, figuring that perhaps he would have a suggestion. "Sonya Getani. She claims to be knowledgeable about computers, but we can't seem to find much information on her. She said she was working with the barter system. Then Zarek found that she had been causing trouble at a casino before the attacks," Adama mentioned.

Lee thought for a moment. "Did you say 'Sonya Getani?'" Both nodded and he continued. "I've been keeping track of the Black Market's movements for a while now. After New Caprica, a new name showed up, Sonny Jets. Jets has been in charge of some of the Black Market exchanges."

"So you think that Getani might be Jets?" Roslin suggested.

"No one ever said whether Jets was a man or a woman, only that Jets is smart about the business," Lee explained.

Roslin patted him on the shoulder. "Thank you, Mr. Adama. You might have just given us a bit of leverage."

Lee smiled back, ignoring the painful stretching cut on his lip. "It feels good to be useful again."

From behind them, Roslin and Adama heard someone clearing his throat. "I see that you feel good enough to be social, Mr. Adama. So I suggest you get out of that bed so someone else can use it," Cottle groused.

"I guess that means I'm dismissed," Lee stated. He moved to the side of the bed and stood. "I haven't thanked Kara for dragging me in here yet."

At hearing another person enter Life Station, Adama glanced over his shoulder, seeing the blonde woman. "You can right now. Here she comes."

Kara strolled over toward Lee. "Admiral, Madame President," she greeted the other two before facing Lee. "I came by to make sure you were still in one piece."

"Thanks to you," he told her with an uncomfortable smirk.

She rolled her eyes. "Apollo, I swear if you go mushy on me, I will make sure you stay here for another day. Now I'm going to help you find your quarters so you don't walk out an airlock."

"Starbuck, I'm not blind, my eyes are swollen," Lee grumbled.

"Whatever. The Old Man will have my ass if you get lost on his ship. Let's go," she ordered, dragging him along by the arm.

Roslin giggled as they left. "Are you sure those two should be alone? He may wind up back her tomorrow if he gives her any arguments."

Adama chuckled, glancing at the vacated doorway. "She threatens, but I don't think she'd punch his lights out at the moment."

Cottle stepped over to them, holding a file as well. "Alright, if the comedy act is over, I've got some things we should discuss in my office," he began. They followed him and he continued. "I'm sorry about having you wait. I had a kidney surgery to look in on."

"You're a doctor first," Adama stated.

Opening the file, Cottle spread the graphs and charts out on his desk. "The good news is you're not a Cylon."

Roslin eyed him incredulously. "Are you implying that there could be bad news?"

"If I'm not a Cylon, then what's wrong?" Adama questioned.

Cottle sighed, showing them a sheet of figures and percentages, relating to the contents of the admiral's blood. "You're healthy. Too healthy. You have some extremely powerful antibodies that I don't think have always been there."

"He was in surgery after being shot. Didn't you see that then?" Roslin probed.

"They could have been there at that point, but we were only checking for infection at that time. I was a little busy trying to put him back together to worry about a good immune system," Cottle said gruffly.

Roslin raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying that the antibodies were introduced into his blood?"

"It's a possibility. From what I can tell, they've been there for probably a good number of years, but he wasn't born with them. They aren't… I mean they correspond with his physiology, but they aren't his," Cottle tried to explain.

"Were they manufactured then?" Adama asked.

"Honestly I'm not sure. However, they function a little differently than your standard immune system. When people have organ transplants, the body's immune system can sometimes reject the organ. Your immune system acts like it's accepted something. What I'm guessing is that it all has something to do with that thing in your neck."

Adama's brow furrowed. "So Cylons hijacked my body, implanted a homing device, altered my immune system to accept it, and I don't remember any of it?"

Roslin gently touched his forearm. "It's possible that you were incapacitated at the time. What if your landing in that building during the first Cylon war didn't happen the way you think? We already know that the Cylons can implant people with different memories. Let's say, hypothetically, that you did land there, but something went wrong and you were hurt when you came through the ceiling. Let's say that the Hybrid you found wanted to repaired, so to speak, and used the opportunity to implant the tracking device."

"But why would…," he trailed off, noticing that she averted her eyes. "Laura, what do you know?"

She took a deep breath, looking back up at him. "I… did something you're probably not going to like. I took your doodle with me to the brig."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"We needed answers," she remarked as they sat in two plastic chairs while Cottle stood.

_Will we always do things behind each other's backs? I don't like it, but I can't be upset with her, considering that I gave Baltar something to do before asking her_. He set his file on his lap and folded his hands in front of him. "You and I need to communicate better."

"Yes, Admiral, we do," she responded.

"So what answers did you find?" he probed.

"Sonya said that the doodle was a master code of sorts, but she didn't know what it was for. Six looked at it and said it came from the Guardian," Roslin began.

Adama rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Here we go again, more Cylon fiction."

Roslin shook her head. "Actually I think she may be on to something." She went on to explain Six's legend. "And the Guardian is supposed to be a human."

He leaned back in the chair, taking a deep breath. "You sure you can believe anything she says? And you were worried about my proximity to Kara. I remember you telling me that you've shared dreams with this particular Cylon. How can you trust her?"

She sighed, looking out. "I can't, but I also can't ignore an explanation that makes sense."

"See if she can make sense of this," Adama commented, handing Roslin the folder from his lap.

Flipping it open, she found the three pages of binary code. "When did you do this?"

"In CIC. I heard the low-grade static again and then I had three pages of that," he admitted.

"Whatever's going on, I'm starting to think we're in over our heads this time," Roslin commented.

Cottle snorted and the other two looked over at him, having forgotten that he was there. "Wouldn't be the first time. Bill, about the tracking device, I've got a few ideas. Since it was activated by a sound, maybe we can deactivate it if we can find, or mimic, the exact opposite sound."

Adama blinked in surprise. "It's worth a try," he said before looking to Roslin again. "Did you have plans for dinner?"

She dealt him a half-smile. "Only if you're offering to cook."

Cottle cleared his throat. "Well, I've got other patients to tend to. And Bill, remember what I told you earlier this morning."

"We'll see," Adama responded.

As he and Roslin stepped outside of Life Station and into the hall, she eyed him curiously. "What did he tell you?"

"Only that I should keep an eye on you," the admiral replied.

They reached his quarters and she slid out of her shoes, heading for the couch. She folded her jacket and draped it over one arm of the couch, then closed her eyes and leaned back for a moment. Adama set his file on the desk and then went to retrieve hers to move it out of the way. "Long day?" he asked.

She sighed, not opening her eyes. "They're all long."

He watched as her expression scrunched slightly and her brow crinkled before she shifted position. "I know Lee asked you, but I'm going to ask again. How are you really?"

Her eyes opened and she looked at him before answering. "I'm tired and sore."

"Can I get you anything?" he asked, stepping closer to her.

"Just tea, please," she responded, smiling warmly.

While he headed to the kitchen, she reached into her jacket pocket to remove a familiar small brown bag. When he returned with a teacup on a saucer, she poured a few ounces of a powdery substance into it. Then she noticed that he had left a spoon in the tea. _I suppose it was silly to think that I could ever fool him_, she mused as she stirred her tea. After a couple of sips, she realized that he was watching her.

"Does it really help?" he inquired.

She sighed, looking into her tea cup, almost as if she could read the future at the bottom. "It dulls the pain and it creates a feeling between relaxation and euphoria. But of course there are side affects."

As she set the cup down on its saucer for a moment, he rested a hand on her forearm. "You feel up to eating?"

A small smile graced her features. "Actually yes. What did you have in mind?"

There was a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Tonight I think I'll surprise you."

"Oh dear, should I call Jack?" she teased.

He chuckled. "Wait and see."

She elected to take a nap and let him cook. Stretching out on the couch, she noticed the dog lying in the floor before she drifted off to sleep. The movement of a hand gently cupping her face roused her later. "Mmm, how long was I out?" she asked, looking up at Adama.

"Only about half an hour. Dinner's ready," he explained as she sat up.

They sat side by side on the couch, the dog resting on her feet. Dinner consisted of green roll-like shapes backed to have a flaky crust, filled with something that almost tasted like cheese. "You've done it again, Bill, dinner is terrific," she relayed with a smile.

He took a bite. "I'm glad you like it."

Enjoying their dinner in companionable silence for a while, Roslin's mind drifted back over the events of the day. "I realize that she is likely going to cause us trouble, but I really think that we should have Getani work with Baltar. She's too bright to stay in the cell. We could have a marine watch her at all times."

Adama set his plate on the coffee table and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "The trouble is that I don't have an infinite number of marines. We've got one watching each of the four newest Cylons, then we have one trailing Baltar, and you want me to use another one to watch that woman."

Roslin thought for a moment. "You had a guard watching Lee and Kara, right? Since no one is in that part of the brig at the moment, couldn't you have that guard watch Getani?"

He considered her suggestion, taking a sip of water. "We could try that for a while. There is another problem though. Since she works with the Black Market, they'll want her back soon."

"You know where I stand on it, but from what you've told me, it's a necessary evil," she stated dryly. The she stood, watching as the dog left her feet and sat by Adama's desk. Then she walked over to Adama and leaned down. "I should go. Goodnight, Bill."

She kissed him warmly. He returned the kiss and rose, catching one of her hands in his. "Jack wants me to keep an eye on you."

"So you've told me," she countered.

"What I didn't tell you was that he recommended you stay here. Look, you can have the bed and I'll take the couch," he explained.

She crossed her arms. "How chivalrous of you. Bill, I will not be coddled."

He stepped closer to her. "It's just until you feel better. I don't-"

"You don't get it," she stated, backing away, inching toward the hatch. She glanced down, keeping a few tears at bay. The sadness was still etched into her face though as she looked back at him. "There is no 'better.' And I will not spend whatever time I have left, being treated as an invalid, or a child," she told him quietly.

Then she turned and opened the hatch, quickly slipping out into the hall. He moved quickly before she could disappear from this sight. "Laura. Laura that wasn't what I meant," he called after her, staying in pursuit

(My thanks to caramelapples, Mariel3, The Breeze, BossaNovaBaby24, Calico Star, max72, Ceridwyn2, carolann, Reagan, Leliana McKay, and murphycat for reviewing :D)


	13. The enemy of my enemy

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.

Chapter 13: The enemy of my enemy

He followed her through the halls until she stopped at the door to the Observation Deck. Her security detail had followed him and as he turned back to face them, the anxious question of whether or not to follow her was written on their faces.

"Give her a moment," Adama told them.

Inside, Roslin stepped over to the enormous window, her arms wrapping around herself, as if to ward off cold weather. She sighed heavily, placing her right hand against the glass. _I don't want to die. Deities, I don't want to die_. It was in that moment that she allowed herself the luxury of tears. She sank to the floor, drawing solace from letting her walls down. The dog sat on the floor with her, whining.

Deciding that he had waited long enough, Adama turned back to the security detail. "I'll go in first. If there's a problem I'll let you know," he relayed.

He opened the door and had to squint as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Then he looked for her, first scanning the seats. His gaze flowed downhill and he found a form on the floor by the window. His heart broke for her and he rushed over to her. She looked up startled, having been interrupted.

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he helped her to her feet. "Chairs would definitely be more comfortable," he mentioned, trying to break the silence.

"I suppose." She nodded and he took her hands in his, walking her over to two blue seats.

"You're cold," he noticed, rubbing her hands in his.

"Actually I'm…" she trailed off as she faced him. "You're right, I am cold."

He drew her close to him and they sat in silence for a while longer. Then he brushed some of the tears from her damp cheeks. "I know you want to be treated like your independent self. It's not about me playing nursemaid. It scared me, finding you on the bathroom floor like that."

Though she could not see his eyes well in the dim room, she heard the intensity in his voice. Fresh teas pricked her eyes as she realized what her death would do to him. "I'm sorry, Bill. I don't want to die."

Cupping her face in both of his hands, he tried to still her tears. "Listen to me. You're a fighter. From the moment I met you, I saw that. You need to fight this. _I know_ you can fight this. But you need to stop fighting me."

He was her anchor, she knew. And whether or not the cancer was something that she could plausibly fight, her heart knew that he was right, no giving up allowed here. "Okay," she whispered.

"I love you, Laura Roslin. And we are going to fight this together," he expressed.

The conviction in his voice made her heart melt and she leaned in to give him a gentle kiss. Suddenly such brief contact was not enough for either of them. She kissed him again, soundly. He responded, pulling her closer to him. Her lips parted as he deepened the kiss. She threaded her fingers through his hair. _Why does he make me feel like a teenager at times like this? What if kissing was the fountain of youth? Boy the Quorum would love that one_, she thought briefly. The image of her younger self trying to explain such a situation to the Quorum would have made her giggle if Adama had not been rubbing circles over her back.

They separated, resting their foreheads together. "I think your security detail might start worrying if we're in here any longer," he mentioned.

She took a deep breath and stood, slipping out of his embrace. "You're probably right."

As he stood, she made sure that both of them looked presentable, hair and clothing back in place. They left the Observation Deck to greet her security detail before walking back to his quarters. The dog followed them inside. After closing the hatch, Adama faced her. "You're staying here, at least for tonight."

"One day at a time then?" she asked, reaching for his hand.

He took her hand and kissed it. "Exactly."

After he had loaned her an extra set of pajamas, he took a blanket out to the couch. She changed and settled into his bed, petting the dog, who insisted on licking her face as soon as she was lying down. She drifted off to sleep, hearing the admiral rustling around in the living room, trying to poke the couch pillows into something comfortable.

_She was at her cabin again, in the bed snuggled beneath a sheet, two blankets, and a quilt, with Adama's arms around her. When she moved to stretch, he yawned and opened his eyes. "You'd think by now that we'd be used to how cold it is here."_

_The dog wandered in, wagging his tail. "I'm going to feed him and get the fireplace going," she told Adama, kissing him softly before leaving the bed._

_Wearing something similar to flannel pajamas, she grabbed a white bathrobe from a chair at the end of the bed and headed downstairs. The bag of dog food sat by the back door. She used the measuring cup inside to pour some of the round dry pieces into the metal bowl, which was a swirl of worn white and red, as if made from the scrap metal of a Viper. The dog loudly crunched his food. As he ate, Roslin slid into a pair of muddy boots that she wore when she worked in the garden. Then she headed outside to the shed for firewood, exchanging her bathrobe for a long coat._

_Before she reached the shed, a movement from the forest caught her eye. Then the dog dashed out of the house, after whatever had moved. She sighed and sauntered off in pursuit of him. "Digger! Digger, come back here!" she called out._

_After entering the woods and wandering between a few trees, given that there was no trail, she caught sight of the dog's back. He stopped at a clearing, wagging his tail. Roslin looked behind the dog to see Kara. "Come with me," the younger woman said._

_Roslin took a few steps further. "To where?"_

_Kara began walking off in another direction. "Over here."_

_Following the dog along with Kara, Roslin stopped when she saw the cliff again. "I can't."_

_"Do you trust me?" Kara probed._

_"I want to," Roslin replied._

_Kara offered a hand. "Then come with me."_

_Roslin glanced behind her. "What about Bill?"_

_"It's alright. Just trust me," Kara reassured her._

_Taking a deep breath, she grasped the younger woman's hand and the two stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down into the storm again. Not giving Roslin a chance to hesitate, Kara suddenly jumped, pulling both of them into the swirling vortex, with the dog jumping in after them._

_Roslin suddenly found herself on solid ground. She looked up to see only blue sky. "Where are we?" she asked._

_Kara smiled brightly. "Welcome to Earth."_

_The other woman eyed her with confusion. "But, that can't be right. I'm the dying leader. I'm not supposed to be here."_

_"The prophecy can be interpreted in different ways. I can't explain how, but I think you're supposed to be here too," Kara mentioned._

Roslin woke, sitting up in bed quickly. She blinked, trying to find her bearings in the dark room. She was sitting in someone's rack. Logic told her that the only rack she would ever be caught sitting in was Bill Adama's. She reached for the light switch, then for the clock. The alarm was not set to go off for another ten minutes. She glanced up to see Adama moving toward her.

The light woke him. "How are you this morning?" he asked, standing next to her.

She patted the bed, allowing him to join her. He sat while she spoke. "I'm alright. I just had another dream."

"Anything we need to worry about?" he inquired.

"I saw Earth. Kara brought me to Earth," Roslin replied.

He smiled. "Then that's good news. Maybe you will get to see Earth."

She shook her head. "I'm the dying leader."

"Alright, but perhaps there's more to it than that. What else happened?" he encouraged.

"I asked Kara about it. She said that the prophecy has other interpretations," Roslin mentioned with a yawn.

The alarm sounded and Adama reached around her to turn it off. "That's for me. You could go back to sleep if you want to."

She smiled and swung her legs over the side of the bed before standing. "Thank you, but I've got too much on my mind at the moment. I want another look at the prophecy. I feel like I've missed something again."

He stood and watched as she rubbed her arms. "I've got to get ready. Want to borrow my bathrobe for a while?"

Raising an eyebrow, she observed his polite sincerity as she contemplated his offer. "Alright."

Later, wearing his bathrobe over her nightgown, she headed to his desk, to where she had left the book. Sitting in the chair, she scanned the passages for anything that she had otherwise not paid attention to. Her hand kept fingering the page that she had found earlier, the one that had been missing from the other copy. Then she saw it at the bottom of the page.

"Bill, I think I've got something," she called. He left the bathroom and walked over to her. "I missed it before because I just didn't read past what I was initially looking for. 'The guardian of humanity will meet the dying leader and the demons will be judged. She too will face a judgment, in which her fate is balanced. The Thirteenth Tribe will decide her fate.'" She paused and looked over at him. "What do you make of this?"

"That you should always read to the end of the page," he stated wryly.

She smirked and rolled her eyes. "That was funny, but this is something to pay attention to. Do you think the guardian here is the same one that Six told me about?"

Seeing the hopeful expression in her eyes, he sighed, taking her hands in his. "You know that I don't trust her, and despite what you've just read, what she told you could still be a lie. However, let's say that hypothetically she's right, and so is the prophecy. I'm not sure what it means with regard to the Thirteenth Colony, but it sounds like I'm supposed to be the judge of the Cylons."

"Wouldn't that be the epitome of irony?" Roslin suggested.

Adama smiled. "Yes, it would be. Speaking of 'irony,' we were planning on having Getani work with Baltar on that electronic pad."

"Yes, and as soon as Tory comes by with my schedule, I can find out what other horrors await me," she commented.

"You should get dressed then. I'll find something halfway decent for breakfast in the meantime," he mentioned. She nodded and meandered toward the bathroom after telling Adama that her extra clothes were still in the guest quarters.

He retrieved her green dress suit and soon she looked like her usual neat and proper self, ready for whatever the day had in store for her. "What am I doing today?" she asked her aide.

"Ma'am, the vice president wants an update on the move toward Earth. There is also the dispute between the Virgonese representative and the Canceron representative, the one about clothing distribution," Tory began, flipping the notepad over to the next page.

Roslin put a hand up. "Could you please refresh my mind on the issue exactly?"

Tory nodded. "Of course, Madame President. Since the _Rising Star_ donated its retail sweaters to the barter system, the values of trade have been differing on which group is managing sweaters. The Canceron representative argues that the Virgonese representative changed the exchange price. The Virgonese representative admits to changing the price in order to counter a different shortage."

The president sighed and closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. "I really hate playing the referee to these problems. What else is going on?"

"Lieutenant Agathon wishes to speak with you. Following that, you have a break for lunch, and then you have another diloxin treatment with Dr. Cottle. I've cleared your afternoon for it," the aide relayed.

Roslin nodded. "Thank you, Tory, though I'm not sure how helpful a treatment will be after lunch."

Tory glanced at the admiral and then back to the president. "I'll be outside when you're ready, ma'am."

The aide left and Roslin faced Adama. "Thank you for last night."

He pulled her into a hug. "You're welcome."

She kissed him softly and then looked up at him. "After my treatment, I want to have a word with Getani."

"You sure you'll be up to it?" he inquired.

"Whether or not I'm up to it, it needs to be done," she responded.

He headed off to CIC and she followed Tory to meet with Zarek. He met her in the boardroom. "Don't you ever get off _Galactica_ these days?" he asked with a smirk.

She folded her hands in front of her. "As you well know, I need to remain here for treatments. Now I seem to recall that you needed something?" she probed.

Sighing at her 'straight to business' attitude, he opened the folder that he had brought with him. "Do you know if we're any closer to Earth?"

"At present, we're still trying to determine that," she told him vaguely.

"That wasn't an answer and you know it. Hasn't Thrace given you ideas?" he questioned.

She adjusted her glasses. "Tom, it doesn't work like that."

"Alright, but I have people who want answers and soon. You and Admiral Adama cannot keep leading the others blindly. It's human nature to have questions. But enough on that. I wanted to tell you that Lee Adama has accepted my offer and will be working with me," Zarek mentioned.

"Then I hope he can find the fulfillment he's been looking for," she told him.

"It's nice to see that you're no longer angry with him. I'll help him as best I can and keep an eye out for him," Zarek added. "Now, about the food situation…"

Roslin glanced at her watch later and decided to conclude the meeting, having other things on her agenda. "If you will excuse me, Tom, I'm needed to resolve a dispute."

He smiled politely as she stood. "If it's about the sweaters, good luck. Those two can't agree on much."

She smirked. "I'll take that into consideration," she remarked as she walked toward the door. Then she turned back to him. "Oh, and Tom, you'll find that Lee Adama can stand on his own two feet wherever he finds himself."

Leaving him to ponder her statement, she headed for the cargo bay, where the arranged meeting was to take place. The delegates could not even settle on selecting a boardroom, and had defaulted for the cargo bay. Her security detail followed her closely as she entered. She watched the two men debate for two hours. Finally she suggested that the Virgonese representative should honor the original agreement, and if they need a different resource, then the Canceron representative could trade for something else as well.

Though she was not eager to meet with Sharon, it was less of a headache compared to the delegates. Sharon was already waiting in the Admiral's quarters when Roslin arrived. "I'm sorry if I've kept you waiting, Lieutenant. A sweater dispute ran quite a bit longer than I'd planned on."

Sharon raised an eyebrow. "A sweater dispute, ma'am?"

Roslin sighed and lowered herself to the couch. Sharon noticed that she seemed tired. After a pause, the president spoke again. "Two delegates were having trading problems. One of them changed the rules after the deal had been set."

"'What tangled webs we weave' eh?" Sharon mentioned.

"Indeed, and in this case the web is yarn," Roslin replied, closing her eyes for a moment.

"Ma'am, are you alright?" Sharon inquired.

Roslin looked over and nodded. "I think I could use some lunch. Would you mind calling down to the mess hall?"

The other woman nodded and walked over to the phone. "They've got something they're calling 'algae crisps.' Feel like trying them?" Sharon asked.

"Might as well," Roslin responded.

Sharon stood by the desk after hanging up the phone. "I suppose you want to know why asked to see you."

"Yes, I was getting curious," Roslin stated.

The other woman paced slightly and then faced her. "We've both heard of the Final Five, right? Anyway, we've been programmed not to remember them. However, that programming can be overcome. I don't know much, but I know a few things of interest. First of all, four out of the five Cylons, they only have one copy. But the last one has two."

Roslin leaned forward, watching the other woman with interest. "Just what are you implying, Lieutenant?"

"We could've already met that one, but it's someone who died. I don't know who the Final Five are, but that means we can't scratch off the dead from the possibility," Sharon explained.

The president fought off a shiver. _Of all the things she could have told me…that means the last Cylon could be anyone_. "We'll just have to keep an eye out then, won't we?"

Sharon nodded as the food arrived. Deep-friend crispy chunks of algae came in a small bowl with dipping sauce in the middle. Sharon took her bowl and left while Roslin sampled the mess hall's latest experiment. To her mouth, it was not horrible. However, her stomach after she had finished it was in sharp disagreement. She glanced at the clock and stood. _What idiotic plan possessed me to schedule a treatment after lunch?_

She made her way to Life Station and was greeted by the usual grouchy doctor. "Have a seat while I check your blood," Cottle stated. She sat down on a bed and gripped the side of it, closing her eyes briefly. "I haven't even done anything and you already look like you need a bucket."

"I tried something the mess hall called 'algae crisps.' It's not sitting well," she explained.

"I can see that. You sure picked a lousy time for a treatment," he remarked as he took her blood. She shot him a glare. "Okay, I get it. You knew that already. Let me see if I can find you something to settle your stomach before I get you started.

Cottle found a packet of soda crackers in his desk, along with a tablet for making sparkling water. _It's the luck of the deities today_, he thought to himself. He handed a glass of water to her and dropped the tablet in, which caused it to become fizzy. Then he gave her the crackers. She seemed to feel slightly better after a while and Cottle was able to administer her treatment.

Adama came by an hour later and found Cottle flipping through six reports at the same time. "Is she here?" he asked, not needing to reference whom 'she' was.

"That bed over there," Cottle mentioned, pointing to a curtained-off area.

Adama nodded. "How is she?"

"Other than the mess hall wreaking havoc on her already precarious stomach, she shouldn't be too bad," he relayed, turning back to the reports.

"Busy day?" the admiral inquired.

"You have no idea," the doctor replied.

Adama headed over to Roslin's bed. Her eyes were closed and she had pulled the blankets around her while fully dressed. He gently touched her face. She blinked at him and then smiled while he sat in the nearby chair. "How was your day?" she asked him.

"Boring. No emergencies, no Cylons, no binary code, and no new coordinates," he relayed.

"Sounds great," she relayed with a grin. Then she sat up, frowning for a moment at the IV for the diloxin still attached to her arm. "I should be done soon. Zarek said that Lee accepted his offer."

"Which means he could be leaving _Galactica_," Adama added quietly.

"Yes, but he'll be making his own choices," she countered. "And then I spent far too long settling the sweater issue. But then my meeting with Lieutenant Agathon was very interesting."

He raised an eyebrow. "What did Athena have to say?"

"She told me that regarding the Final Five, four have only one copy, but one has two copies. The last Cylon could've been someone who's died," Roslin relayed.

"Which means that there are several thousand possibilities now," he reminded.

Cottle informed her that her treatment was finished and disconnected the IV. As she sat up and slid her legs over the side of the bed, she gripped Adama's forearm as she became dizzy. "Are you sure you're up to this?" he asked her.

When she faced him, he saw the determination in her eyes. "I have to be."

They walked to the brig with her leaning on him as their arms were linked. Six smiled politely. Roslin nodded back. "Did you find the Guardian?"

"In a manner of speaking," Roslin answered tactfully, turning to face Sonya. "We were thinking that perhaps you could work with someone and translate the electronic pad."

"And here I was hoping that you were finally going to let me out," she stated, walking toward them.

"We are, but we know who you work for. Help us, and we'll send you back to them when you've done the job," Adama suggested.

Sonya paced for a moment, and then turned back to him. "I suppose it's a deal."

As the three of them walked to the lab with the guard from the other side of the brig following, two men walked by speaking loudly. "I told you, didn't I? You paid too much for that sweater."

"At least they stuck to the deal," the other said.

Roslin rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I am so tired of sweater problems."

Sonya cleared her through and Roslin glanced over at her. "I can tell you why they're disputing the sweater exchange. The Black Market for all its unscrupulous activities has a constant exchange rate for the most part because the ship it's using doesn't set the prices based on gain for that particular ship. We may not always be ethical, but we're fair."

"That's debatable," Roslin muttered.

They stopped at the door and Adama entered first. "How are you coming with that device?"

"Not so bad, really, but I haven't managed to translate it yet," a familiar voice replied.

Roslin and Sonya joined Adama. "This is Sonya Getani. Miss Getani, meet Dr. Baltar."

Sonya glared at the dark-haired man and started to back up. "Oh no. I am not working with him. This frakkin' dumb-ass is the reason I can't see out of my left eye."

"You will, or you go back to the cell," Adama informed her.

She stared at Baltar intensely to the point where Baltar wondered if this woman could literally see right through him. Finally she turned back to Adama. "Well Admiral, it seems that to my great chagrin, this man is the lesser of the two evils. At least I won't be bored."

"You two will be watched," Roslin mentioned as the guard also entered the lab.

"As if I don't have enough babysitters," Baltar complained.

Sonya walked over to him, not even coming up to his shoulder. "You try anything with me, and I'll find a way to pull your spine out while you're still breathing."

Baltar stared at her, wide-eyed, and then faced Adama in a panic. "Admiral, must I be subjected to this constant barrage of harassment?"

"For now," Adama replied.

As he and Roslin left, heading in the direction of his quarters, she could not resist giggling softly. "I don't know which one of them I feel sorrier for."

He chuckled and shook his head. "I'd pick her side if he's still alive tomorrow."

(My thanks to miss mcGonagle, murphybluecat, Ceridwyn2, caramelapples, BossaNovaBaby24, carolann, max72, and Sconnell for reviewing :D)


	14. War zone

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.

Chapter 14: War zone

They had worked all night, studying the device with different methods of programming. Baltar swallowed hard, watching from ten feet away as Sonya studied the device again. "_What's wrong, Gaius? Afraid of such a tiny woman_?" the Six in his head asked him.

"She's plotting to kill me," he told her.

Six walked in front of him and laughed. "_Don't be silly, Gaius. First, you have to help her_."

"And then she'll kill me," he responded.

"_Don't underestimate her. You should be afraid, but not for the reason you think_," Six relayed, brushing the hair out of his eyes with her long fingers.

Baltar sighed. "And you're getting better at making absolutely no sense."

Sonya had been seated on a stool by one of the counters, studying the icons on the screen of the device. She looked up to where Baltar was standing, hearing him talk and turn his head. "Great. I'm stuck with a frak-wit who talks to an invisible friend," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

He faced Six again. "And I'm stuck with an assassin who talks to herself."

"Hey Dr. Bolt-to-the-enemy, you're supposed to be helping over here," she said snidely.

Six giggled. "_This is going to be loads of fun_."

Baltar trudged over to Sonya and looked over her shoulder. "You're breathing on me, slimy."

"Oh, forgive me," he began sarcastically, "since you're the one who said I was supposed to be over here helping you!"

Sonya passed the device back to him. "You've been staring at it almost as long as I have. It's not like any computer I've ever seen before."

"Perhaps it would help if we could find a menu," he recommended.

The electronic pad resembled a calculator with a slightly bigger screen that folded open. A small alphabet of buttons that they did not understand took up more space downward. A small red button functioned as the mouse as Sonya rested her right index finger on it. The screen had what appeared to be a starry backdrop with nine planets stretched from end to end with a yellow sun to the left, an array of icons to the right and left of it, and a circle in the middle of the screen. The circle held differently colored sections.

Sonya ran the pointer over the sections, watching as a textual extension popped out, but they were still unable to read it. "That's probably the menu, but it doesn't do us much good," she mentioned, handing the device to him.

"Why do you hate me?" he asked.

She eyed him incredulously. "For starters, you soled us out to the enemy. Then they interrogated me by messing with the retina of my left eye, seeing if excessive flashes of intense brightness would work as an effective torture. So many of us were tortured and murdered because you, yes you, Gaius I'm-going-to-save-my-own-ass Baltar didn't have the guts to do the right thing.

He put the electronic pad down, glaring at her with irritation. "Do you have any idea what would've happened if I had just stood up and done what you and everyone else have deemed 'the right thing?' I would've been shot like the others and replaced. There would be deaths either way, but I chose to work with them, hoping to prevent some of them."

"What about the death warrants?" she questioned.

"They made me sign those at gunpoint. Felix Gaeta lied on the stand," Baltar explained.

Sonya rolled her eyes. "So I should feel sorry for you? Was Gaius Baltar a victim all this time? Of both humans and Cylons? Oh 'cry me a river.' With all the sleeping around you do, you can't expect me to believe that you're a victim."

He cleared his throat. "Excuse me?"

She rested her hands on her hips, never leaving the stool. "I shouldn't have to tell you this. You're the smartest man alive, but you rot your brain with women."

He glared at her. "Who are you to pass judgment on me? The fact that you're here at all proves that you're no saint either."

Her lips curved into a devious smirk. "I'm the smartest woman alive."

"And people call me 'arrogant,'" he said to Six.

He picked up the electronic pad again, moving the pointer around the screen. As the mouse glided over the backdrop, his thumb slipped and he accidentally clicked on the third planet from the sun, a bluish green one. Suddenly a window popped up on the screen. Part of the window had a bar. Running the pointer over the bar, a scrolling list of phrases arranged in different symbols appeared. Sonya stared with curiosity, noticing when letters that she recognized appeared.

"Well it looks like you finally did something intelligent," she spouted.

Ignoring her, he clicked on the familiar symbols and the entire screen changed. Every byline and notation switched to their language. The window where the selection had come from disappeared and another one popped up, asking in their language for a password. "I suppose we should alert the admiral," Baltar stated.

Adama woke on the couch again with a yawn. He stretched and found his watch, noticing that his alarm would go off soon. He left the couch, folding the blanket he had used, and entered his room to turn off the alarm before it woke Roslin. Then he showered and dressed, calling for coffee afterward.

Roslin's sleep had been surprisingly dreamless, but she opened her eyes and flinched with a pounding headache. As she sat up, dizziness soon accompanied the pain. She made her way to the bathroom, washing her face with warm water, and then she caught her haggard reflection in the mirror. She wanted to take a shower, but the warm water alone that she had used on her face was making her nauseous.

As she looked to her left, she spotted a mug of coffee. In the mirror she noticed Adama. "I didn't hear you come in."

He noted how weary she looked. "I thought you might like some coffee."

She smiled weakly. "I appreciate the thought, but I'm not sure if it would help this morning?"

"How are you feeling?" he asked with concern, stepping closer, reaching for one of her hands.

Having his warm hand hold hers felt mildly relaxing. "I haven't felt this bad in a long time. My head is killing me and I want a shower, but right now the warm water would make me ill."

"Then take the day off, rest," he recommended.

She sighed and turned back to the sink. "I can't do that. There's too much to do."

He stepped up behind her and rubbed her shoulders. "Everybody needs a sick day now and then. Let Tory and Zarek do their jobs."

Roslin rubbed her eyes. "Is it really that simple?"

"You tell me. Can you really sit through a meeting today and give it your full attention?" he pointed out.

"I could just sit and have someone else take notes," she suggested.

Shaking his head, he looked her directly in the eyes. "People will think you're going to pass out any minute and the press will have a field day with that one. Then there's concentration."

She sighed heavily, meandering back to the bed and sitting down. "You're right. Would you mind calling Tory for me? She should still be on _Colonial One_."

He nodded. "Of course. And I'll be back to check on you later."

Her aide promised to drop by later and brief her on the day's events. Zarek, with Lee tagging along, accepted the day's added challenges. Adama headed to CIC, taking with him the two binary code doodles. Tigh met him with a nod, and Kara a grin. "I have new coordinates, sir," she informed him.

"Good, let's get started," he responded.

While they scanned for Cylon activity after the jump, Kara spoke again. "Sir, do you know where the president will be today?"

Adama's face gave nothing away. "She's a bit under the weather. Why?"

"I was hoping to talk to her about a dream I had a couple of nights ago," the blonde woman explained, looking out at the stars.

Adama folded his hands on the console. "I promised I'd check on her later. I suppose you can come with me."

The phone rang and the admiral picked it up. "Adama."

"Admiral," Sonya's voice said, "we've translated the electronic pad and would like you and the president to see it."

"I'll be right there," he stated, hanging up the phone. Then he looked over at Tigh. "Saul, I've got to see about some business at the lab. It's yours," he told his XO before leaving.

Adama reached the lab to find Baltar and Sonya arguing again. "If you weren't such a frak-wit, then maybe you'd know the password."

Baltar glared at the small woman. "If you weren't so bloody irritating, then maybe I would. You're supposed to be the computer expert anyway, Miss I'm-the-smartest-woman-alive."

Sonya placed her hands on her hips. "I'd like to see you try to find the back door to something that's based on the binary code of a different language."

"If you weren't such a bloody nag, maybe then you'd try to learn the new language," Baltar threw back.

"Oh shut up!" Sonya spat.

"Miss High-and-mighty can't stand the competition that just maybe Gaius Baltar knows more than she does," he retorted.

"Shut up before I come over there and shut you up!" she ordered.

Baltar groaned. "Just how do you intend to-"

Adama cleared his throat and they immediately whipped their heads around toward the doorway. "You two had something to show me?" the admiral reminded.

Sonya handed him the electronic pad. "We've got a screen and icons now, but as you can see, it's asking for a password."

"Thank you. I'll take that," Adama stated.

"Where's the president today?" Sonya inquired.

"She's unavailable at the moment," Adama said evasively.

The other man was more interested in the electronic pad as he stared at it. "I think you should tell us what's so important about that device, Admiral," Baltar commented.

Adama looked from one to the other. "I'm afraid that's classified."

"What happens to us now?" Sonya probed.

The admiral had been prepared for the question as he removed the binary doodles from his folder. "Tell me what these are and what they go to. Find out what they do."

Sonya was not used to taking orders, nor did she know how to read the admiral yet. Baltar merely replied, "We'll get right on it, Admiral."

Adama headed for the door as the wheels in Sonya's mind began to turn. "Admiral," she began, following him. "That Cylon in the brig talked about these. The way she explained it, my understanding is that they could be codes that will do something to the Cylons."

"In which case we may have to build an organic computer like they have," Baltar interjected.

"No. It's too big of a risk," Adama said dismissively.

Sonya crossed her arms and stared out at the far wall in thought. Then she jerked her head back to him. "Admiral, actually it's not. I'm not exactly sure how to do it, but the unit wouldn't be networked to anything."

"Try the conventional methods first. At the moment my answer is 'no' to an organic computer," Adama replied before leaving.

He returned to CIC, locating Kara. Then the two headed to his quarters. He was surprised to find Roslin dressed and awake, sitting at his desk with a bowl of soup. She looked up and smiled when he entered, followed by Kara. "Hello. Did I miss anything interesting?"

Adama set the electronic pad down on the desk. "It's translated. How are you feeling?"

_Quick change of subject. _"Much better, thank you. Tory dropped by to brief me on the Quorum meeting. She also brought me soup. It's actually good, despite being from the mess hall."

"Probably the usual guy's day off," Kara muttered. Adama snorted and Roslin smirked.

"It is humor some days that keeps us going," Roslin stated, turning her attention to the electronic pad. "Now what's this about it being translated?"

Adama picked it up, allowing Kara and Roslin to see it while he navigated the pointer around the screen. "It's in our language. This window here is asking for a password though."

"That was in my pocket, as well as the dirt, wasn't it?" Kara mentioned.

"Yes. Since it was given to you, I was hoping that you might have an idea as to what the password is," Adama remarked.

Kara glanced away, drumming her fingers on the desk. "Try '_Galactica_.'" Nothing happened. "'Eye of Jupiter?'" Still nothing. "'Kobol?'" Nothing. "Maybe this is all some bogey chase."

Roslin had been watching, resting her chin on her fist. "Maybe not," she paused, facing Kara. "The dream, in the dream you repeated certain phrases. You said 'come with me,' and 'trust me.' Let's try those."

Using 'trust me' as one word worked. A blurb popped up on the screen and Adama read it aloud. "'We are sorry that we had to drug your pilot, but we needed to know more. Your situation seems legitimate, however, we request a meeting in person. We cannot give you the coordinates to Earth until we are able to verify that you mean us no harm. On this pad we have given you coordinates to our space station, Solaris. If you had not been able to access this, your pilot has been given the coordinates in succession and would eventually lead you to the station also. The other icons on the screen will tell you about Earth. We hope to meet with you soon.' It's signed 'General Chesterton.'"

"Okay now. So what's the plan?" Kara inquired, looking from the admiral to the president.

Roslin folded her hands on the desk, having finished the soup. "I will not see the whole fleet led into a trap. On that same note, I physically cannot go on such a mission, nor am I willing to send the admiral on a mission of diplomacy when we don't know if we're simply wandering into another war zone."

Kara ran her hands through her hair. "But what if it's real? Can't we just send a Raptor and a few people?"

"It's worth considering," Adama commented.

"Then I volunteer. They already know who I am. Maybe I can take a recorded message from both of you. I could take another pilot with me, and somebody from the government," the blonde woman suggested as she glanced down at the coordinates. "This would've been our next jump anyway."

Adama glanced at his watch and then back to Roslin. She looked at the pad and then back to him, as if letting it be his call. "We'll consider this," he told Kara. "Now if you two will excuse me, I have a few other things to look in on. Kara, Madame President," he said, nodding to both.

As he headed for the door, Roslin followed him. "Kara knows, Bill," she mentioned before kissing him softly.

He glanced over at the blonde woman, who put a hand over her mouth to muffle the giggling. Then he smiled, cupping Roslin's face with his hands. "Good," he responded before kissing her soundly. "I should be back before dinner."

"Are you cooking again?" Roslin probed, smirking.

"Are you staying again?" Adama countered.

Roslin sighed and shook her head. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to answer a question with a question?"

"Actually she told me I talk too much," he said, kissing Roslin again.

He left and Roslin turned back to the desk, where laughter erupted from Kara. "Who needs movies when I can watch you two?"

Roslin blushed. "Well I'm glad that you find all this amusing. Now, was there something else you wanted?"

"Yes. The dream, do you remember it? The one where you came through the storm with me?" Kara asked.

The president seated herself in the desk chair again. "Yes."

"You're going to see Earth," Kara pointed out.

"I think you're very optimistic," Roslin remarked.

Kara shook her head, pacing slightly. "Somehow, you're going to see Earth."

Roslin focused her gaze on her hands. "It's a nice idea."

"You have to keep hoping. Do it for the Old Man," Kara remarked, placing both hands on the desk, across from Roslin. The president smiled calmly and Kara headed back to CIC, wondering what the 'Old Man' was up to when she arrived, finding that he had not yet returned.

Adama stood in front of Six in the brig, the bars separating them. Six looked up at him from her bed. "Hmm, you've come yourself this time. It must be important."

He took a deep breath and assessed her. She sounded calm, but he was ready if she decided to try something… unpredictable. "Tell me everything you know about the Guardian."

She stood and watched his face, which stoically gave nothing away. "Alright. The Guardian was created by the One from whom we have evolved. The Guardian is, according to our legend, a human who will know where the Cylons are, and will judge them according to how they have followed the plans of the One." She went on to explain everything to him that she had told Roslin.

"How will this 'Guardian' know who he or she is?" Adama questioned.

"The Guardian will awaken with the Final Five," Six explained.

Adama paced from one end of the cell to the other. The Baltar in Six's mind kept pace with him on the other side of the bars. "And what are the Final Five. What purpose do they serve?"

"I don't know," she answered.

"Why would your creator want to make a check to police his creation?" Adama interrogated.

"You wouldn't understand," she relayed.

Adama stopped directly in front of her. "You let me be the judge of that."

Six's inner Baltar sat on the bed, placing his arms behind his head. "_Oh, I'm sure he will be_."

She turned to look over at him. "'Will be' what?"

"_Judge. He will be judge, jury, and executioner as soon as he things that you've outlived your usefulness_," Baltar answered.

The admiral decided that his convict had lost her attention span and he decided to leave. He had almost reached the door when she stood, having one last piece of information for him. "As Pythia holds the fate of humanity, the Guardian holds the fate of the Cylons."

(My thanks to murphybluecat, caramelapples, Calico Star, BossaNovaBaby24, and Reagan for reviewing :D)


	15. The Leoben factor

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.

Chapter 15: The Leoben factor

Adama stopped and wheeled around to face her. "Are you saying that the Guardian is a prophet too?"

The blonde Cylon shook her head. "Both Pythia and the Guardian will lead the way to Earth, where the final judgment of both shall occur. There will only be one winner."

He thought for a moment, watching her to look for an indication that she was lying to him. _That can't be right. None of this- oh frak, the tracking device! I've got to find Jack_, Adama reasoned as he suddenly dashed out of the brig. He soon reached Life Station and found Cottle at his desk, looking over what appeared to be graphs. The doctor glanced up as the admiral neared. "What can I help you with, Admiral?"

Adama glanced around to see everyone else busy and paying no attention to him. "I need you to get that thing out of my neck," he requested quietly.

Cottle sighed and shifted the graphs over to show Adama his X-rays. "I can't. Asking me to remove it is like asking me to take out your spine. It's part of you. However," he paused and looked up at the distraught admiral, "I've been working on developing a sound that's supposed to be the opposite of the one you keep calling low-grade static."

"I'm guessing that you're still working on it then," Adama assessed.

"Yes, but I can test out a few tones if it would make you feel better," Cottle grumbled.

The doctor set up the buttons and then activated the sound device. Adama winced as a sharp pinching plagued his neck. "Shut it off," he requested.

"Apparently that was the wrong one. Let's see if this one's any better," Cottle advised.

A hot pricking sensation passed through his neck, followed by a severe ache. "Turn it off! That's the wrong one too."

"Hmm, I've got one more today," Cottle remarked. He set up the configuration again. This time the device emitted a whistling sound, similar to a tea kettle.

"I don't think that will do me any good either," Adama responded.

While Adama tried to deactivate his problem in Life Station, Roslin had been reading through fleet reports on algae. She set the folder down and glanced at the clock on the desk. _He's late. Why isn't he back yet? His shift ended half an hour ago,_ she thought as she picked up the phone. When she learned that he was not in CIC, she paced through the room a few times. _Where could he be? Then _she decided to try Life Station.

"Cottle," the voice on the other line responded.

"Jack, it's Laura. Is Bill there?" she asked.

Cottle faced Adama, who had raised an eyebrow. "Yep, he's here."

Roslin sighed with relief. "Tell him to come home. He's half an hour late."

"I will," Cottle replied before hanging up the phone.

"Who was it?" Adama inquired, rubbing one shoulder to dispel the ache from the tracking device.

Smirking, Cottle told him, "The missus called. I'm supposed to tell you to come home. She said you were half an hour late."

Adama snorted at Cottle's grin. "We're not, I mean it's not-"

The doctor chuckled. "Save it for someone who actually believes you over his eyes and ears. Go home. I'll keep working on this."

Nodding, the admiral left and strode back to his quarters. Roslin opened the hatch for him. "Bill, what were you doing in Life Station? Bill?" She watched with concern as he poured himself a glass of Ambrosia.

Then his eyes met hers and he sighed, seeing her worry. "It started when I went to see the Cylon prisoner."

He walked over to the couch and she followed him. "Why?"

"I wanted to know more about the Guardian," he replied, taking a drink.

She sat down next to him, gently resting her right hand on his left forearm. "And?"

"The Guardian is going to lead the Cylons to Earth," he told her flatly.

Roslin blinked in surprise. "But Bill, you'd never willingly-"

"The tracking device, Laura, that thing is going to lead them right to us," he explained.

Comprehension washed over her face. "So you went to Jack to see if he could remove it."

"It can't be done, but he's been experimenting with tones to see if he can get the opposite sound," Adama relayed.

"And how did that go?" she probed.

He set the glass down to rub his shoulder. "Two of them hurt, and one caused it to sound like a tea kettle. I can't stay here. I'm putting the fleet in danger."

Roslin rolled her eyes, tightening her grip on his arm. "We've been over this. You are not going anywhere. What exactly did Six tell you?"

"That 'both Pythia and the Guardian will lead the way to Earth, where the final judgment of both shall occur. There will only be one winner,'" he answered.

"If you are the Guardian, then it sounds like you're entrenched in these prophecies almost as much as I am," Roslin stated, kissing him on the cheek.

He ran a hand through his hair. "I never really realized what you had to deal with. I didn't ask to be a part of this."

She sighed, glancing at the floor. "We all have our parts." As she looked back at him, she noticed that he seemed distracted again. "What's on your mind now?"

"I should probably start dinner," he stated, rising to his feet.

"Bill, that wasn't it and you know it," she countered, following him.

He headed toward the refrigerator and the freezer to find algae paste as well as frozen vegetables that had been hiding in the back of the freezer, intending to make veggie burgers. "Getani and Baltar want to build an organic computer to decipher the codes."

She found a bowl for him as well as a few greenish algae rolls. "Why didn't you mention this earlier?"

"I told them 'no.' I can't see risking things like that," he mentioned, mixing the algae with the frozen vegetables.

Handing him a few spices, she also told him, "It wouldn't have to be networked necessarily."

He stopped and looked her squarely in the eyes. "Laura, we're talking about an organic computer like the ones the Cylons are using. They'd probably need to use the Cylon prisoner to test them. I can't believe you're actually considering this."

She crossed her arms. "Do you want to know if you're leading the Cylons to Earth and they're giving you messages?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Then maybe we'd better do whatever it takes to learn what those codes are for as soon as possible," she concluded as they resumed their cooking.

Once dinner was ready, they sat on the couch, enjoying the burgers. They ate in silence for a while. Adama watched Roslin when he thought that she was not looking. _I don't know what I would've done if she hadn't been here to talk to. I wonder if I can convince her to spend the night again. Surprisingly, she's been the point of sanity lately_, he mused. She turned and caught him looking, raising an eyebrow at him.

He let a small smile creep onto his face. "When you called Jack, he told me that the 'missus' called. We may have to do something about him."

She laughed heartily. "He's such a card sometimes."

Adama took another bite of his burger. "I just wish he'd mind his own business sometimes."

Roslin raised an eyebrow. "Is there business to mind?"

He swallowed. "That depends. Will you stay again?"

She set her dinner down on its plate and glanced at her shoeless feet. "I shouldn't. I probably don't need to be watched, but…"

Adama squeezed one of her hands. "But?"

"But the guest quarters are rather lonely," she admitted, bringing her gaze back up to meet his.

He smiled and they finished dinner in companionable silence. Like the previous evening, he took the couch while she slept in his bed. Her left side ached, causing her to toss and turn in an effort to find a comfortable position. As she rested on her right side, she closed her eyes, letting the relaxation of sleep cover her.

_She was kneeling in her garden, pulling weeds, putting them aside into a basket. Digger kept sniffing through the basket, pulling the weeds out to play with them. "You silly dog, I need to throw those away," she scolded half-heartily._

_Then a shadow appeared and she could feel the presence of someone behind her. "Bill, could you get me-"_

_It was not him though. A hand clamped over her mouth and a strong arm yanked her to her feet. She struggled, but was unable to overcome her captor. The assailant dragged her into the woods with the dog barking. They stopped by a pond and the person forced her to the ground. It was then that she caught her reflection in the pond. Leoben was behind her. He removed his hand from her mouth in order to hold both of her arms behind her back._

_"Let me go! What do you want?" she demanded._

_He leered at her. "I'm going to show you something, Laura."_

_"Why should I listen to you?" she grumbled._

_"Because you need to see it." As he paused, she saw his reflection point to the pond._

_Suddenly their reflections rippled away and she saw a patch of stars, then a moon. Beyond the moon was a bluish-green planet. After a moment, two ships appeared: Galactica and a Cylon Basestar. "What is this?" she asked._

_"Both of us will reach Earth for the final judgment, but there will only be one survivor. The humans win and the Cylons die, or the Cylons win and humanity is destroyed. Either way, you will lose, Laura Roslin," Leoben explained._

_"What makes you think that I'm going to believe anything you say? You lie," she retorted._

_The Cylon pressed her further into the ground. "A sacrifice will be asked of you."_

She woke to pain on the left side of her chest, accompanied by wheezing as she tried to gain her bearings. Looking around, she noticed that once again she was in Adama's bed. She stood and walked out to the living room, hearing him snoring lightly from the couch. The need not to be alone overwhelmed her and she walked toward him. He lay on his side, not taking up the entire couch. She sat on part of the cushion and stroked his face. Moving his blanket aside when he did not wake, she stretched out next to him and fell back to sleep, listening to the rhythmic snoring.

Adama heard the distant buzzing of his alarm from the couch. He tried to stretch, but for some odd reason found movement difficult. He looked around and noticed her next to him. "Laura," he said quietly.

She stirred and yawned. "Yes, Bill?"

"What are you doing here? This isn't exactly a comfortable fit," he pointed out.

Sitting up, she faced him. "This is going to sound so juvenile. I… had a nightmare. I didn't want to be alone."

They both moved so that they were sitting next to each other on the couch. He reached for one of her hands and gently held it in both of his. "Considering the kinds of dreams and nightmares you've been having lately, I don't think it's juvenile. I'm going to shut off my alarm. Would you like me to get you a cup of tea and we'll discuss this?"

She smiled. "That's sweet of you. Yes, I would like that."

He stood and after a while returned with a cup of tea for both of them. "Was Kara in this one?"

"No, that was one of the odd things about it," Roslin stated, watching as the dog appeared, trotting out of the bedroom to sit by her feet. "I was in the garden on New Caprica, and then someone came behind me and grabbed me. I was dragged into the forest, to a pond. Then I saw that it was Leoben." She paused, hearing Adama mutter, 'frakker' before sipping his tea. "In the bond I saw Earth, us, and the Cylons. He told me that we would both make it to Earth, but only one side would survive. He told me that either way, I would lose and that a sacrifice would be required of me."

Adama gently patted her knee. "You can't trust anything he says. He twists things."

She sighed heavily. "But what if he's right?"

"Then we'll just have to deal with it like we've dealt with everything else," Adama answered.

They took turns showering and prepared themselves for their day. She stopped him before he could leave for CIC. "I think we should give a Raptor to Kara and let her go find the station."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure about this?"

She nodded. "Whether it's a trap or it's legitimate, at least we'll know."

A few hours later, Adama and Roslin stood on the hanger deck to see Kara off. Lee had volunteered to join her as the political representative, and Athena would be joining them also. Adama touched Kara's shoulder. "You go find Earth, got it?"

She grinned. "Yes, sir."

After he hugged Kara, he moved on to his son. "I promise not to screw this up, or to let Kara screw it up," Lee mentioned with a smirk.

His father chuckled. "Just come back in one piece," he said before the two hugged.

The admiral shook hands with Athena and wished her good luck, as did the president. When Roslin stopped at Lee, she told him, "Keep in mind that you are representing this government, and that we mean then no harm."

Lee shook her hand. "Yes, ma'am."

Then she turned to Kara. "At least one of us gets to see Earth."

Kara smirked. "It'll be your turn next, Madame Prez."

Adama and Roslin watched from behind the glass as the Raptor was launched. "You think they'll be okay?" he asked her.

She faced him with a calm smile and nodded. "Though I don't know what they'll find, I do know that they can handle whatever situation they find themselves in."

He folded his hands in front of him and sighed. "Let's hope so."

(My thanks to Calico Star, Mariel3, and carolann for reviewing :D)


	16. Seeds of discontent

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.

"Colonial speech"

"_Earth speech_"

Chapter 16: Seeds of discontent

Kara pressed her face to the side window as the Raptor drifted in view of the space station. "What if I was wrong and this is a trap?"

Lee looked up at her from his seat. "Then we'll do whatever we have to do to ensure that they don't find the fleet."

The station resembled a ladder, with three branches inside a rectangular shape, but the formation was half the size of _Galactica_. Its surface was an ash-gray, closer in color to the Vipers, compared to the other Colonial ships. On the surface, scrawling from what Kara assumed were different languages were interspersed throughout the station, along with an orderly arrangement of oval windows.

A red light on the Raptor's console blinked at them. "They're contacting us," Athena mentioned.

"Let's see what they have to say," Lee remarked.

A man in a green military uniform appeared on the screen. In a stern, yet calm tone, he babbled in a language that no one on board the Raptor could understand. Lee looked back at Kara. "What was the name on that electronic pad? Maybe if we give them a name, they'll bring someone who can help us," he suggested.

Kara nodded. "General Chesterton."

Lee looked at the man on the screen. "General Chesterton," he repeated.

The man blinked at them and then nodded. He left his chair and after a few minutes, a white-haired stocky man in his sixties, also in a green military uniform, sat and spoke to them. "_You must be the group with Captain Thrace_."

Kara stepped forward. "You can understand us?"

"_The language you speak is like an ancient one of ours. Since your last visit, we have set aside a program for it, in the hope that you would return. Please, dock your ship and then we can speak in person_," the general recommended.

A circular docking port lit up in blue visualize on the station. As the three left the ship, they were greeted by the general and a few doctors. As in Kara's recount of her trip to Earth, the people wore ear pieces while the general held a microphone. "What's with the doctors, sir?" she asked.

"_We need blood samples. You see, our world recently suffered a virus and we need to discover if any of you carry it, or are susceptible to it_," Chesterton responded.

Kara looked over at Athena as one of the doctors withdrew the blood. "Her sample will be different from ours. She's a Cylon, sir, like the ones I was telling you about, but she's on our side."

The general studied the young Cylon as she stood before him in her flight suit. Then he turned back to Kara. "_Why haven't you brought your leaders_?"

"Probably for the same reason that I'm not talking to your leaders right now, sir," she retorted.

Lee sighed and stepped forward. "Sir, if you will excuse my colleague's brashness, we mean you no harm. There is a level of caution mixed with distrust on both sides. Let me be the one to fix it." He extended his hand to the general. "Our president has sent a recorded message with us. Lee Adama, government representative for the Twelve Colonies of Kobol."

Chesterton smiled politely and shook the younger man's hand. "_It's good to meet you. Welcome on behalf of the United Coalition of Earth_."

From behind the general, a mousy brown-haired woman in her thirties emerged, also holding a microphone. "_I'm Abigail Felds, linguist aboard Solaris Station_."

Lee shook her hand next. "It's good to meet both of you. So will you be studying our language then?"

"Your language is easier than some others," she answered in his language.

"I keep forgetting that you've had two months to learn it," Kara remarked.

Chesterton cleared his throat and Abigail looked toward him. "_Dr. Felds, would you mind giving these people a tour and convincing them that this isn't a trick_?"

She smiled brightly. "_Of course, sir_."

Abigail led them through the sterile white halls, through a doorway into a room with a large screen that stretched across one wall. She walked over to a console and pressed a few buttons. Images materialized into Earth and data about the planet. "It's beautiful," Sharon stated.

Kara nodded. "Yep. And it's even better in person."

As the three looked through the files on earth with a burning curiosity, the general returned and pulled Abigail out in the hall. "_I want you to call that archaeologist friend of yours today_."

She nodded. "_Yes sir. How did the blood tests go_?"

The general glanced back at the three to see that Abigail was not missed. "_Kara Thrace is Kara Thrace, and Lee Adama is who he claims to be, but the dark-haired woman is different. She's an organic machine, just like the other one_."

Abigail's eyes widened. "_Should we tell them about him_?"

General Chesterton shook his head adamantly. "_Absolutely not. Until we sort out that nonsense he keeps rambling about, that 'Judgment day is coming' crap, we tell them nothing._"

After seeing more pictures of Earth and learning more about the many cultures on the planet, they followed Abigail to the mess hall. "Holy frak! You guys have real food!" Sharon exclaimed, eyeing the buffet hungrily. From leafy salad and lush tomatoes, to fried chicken, to four kinds of soup were there.

As Sharon dished up a plate, Abigail turned to Kara. "'Holy' what?"

"It's just an expression," the blonde woman answered.

They seated themselves and had the forks poised in their hands as Abigail spoke. "If you weren't eating food like we have, what have all of you been eating?"

"Different forms of algae paste," Lee supplied.

"_It sounds absolutely disgusting_," Abigail responded.

"Quickest way to go on a diet," Kara joked.

Abigail smirked. "Indeed."

The group ate quietly as other military personnel and possibly doctors or scientists passed by. "What is this space station for?" Lee inquired.

The brown-haired woman set her taco down. "_Well Mr. Adama, we do research here, and primarily experiments regarding long distance communications_."

"How soon before we get the coordinates to Earth?" Kara probed.

Abigail sighed and folded her hands in front of her. "_I'm afraid that's up to the general. He… has several security protocols to go through before he trusts you_."

Kara scoffed, letting her fork drop to her tray with a clatter. "You people drugged me last time. Didn't you learn enough then?"

"_We are sorry for that. General Chesterton is just taking extra precautions_," Abigail explained.

She led them out into the hall after they had finished their meal, wanting to show them their most recent telescope pictures, when Chesterton passed by with four guards and a scraggly man. Though his head was down, Kara gasped, realizing who this prisoner was. Hearing such an unusual sound, the prisoner immediately looked up. He saw her and could only stare, frozen like a petrified oak.

"Kara," his scratchy voice uttered.

The general and the guards stopped as she responded with, "Leoben."

"_Are you acquainted with our prisoner_?" Chesterton probed.

Kara tore her gaze from the Cylon to face the general. "I'm familiar with this model."

"You're far too modest, Kara. Tell him what we had together. I'm sure he'd find it very interesting," Leoben said snidely.

"Sir, this model tells half-truths and lies. He can't be trusted. Disregard whatever he tells you," Lee interjected, as if defending Kara.

The general looked toward Abigail. "_Dr. Felds, please show these three to my office. We have a great deal to discuss before we can give them directions to Earth_." As they walked down the hall, Kara wondered if leaving _Galactica_ had been a good idea or not.

Roslin set her glasses down on Adama's desk and sighed. After seeing the Raptor off, she had been called to a Quorum meeting. The rumor of a food shortage had leaked out and it had taken two hours to convince them that they still had plenty of time to find a suitable solution. The press conference had zapped the last of her energy, and the diloxin treatment had placed her on negative energy reserves.

"You should eat something," Cottle had advised her.

"Do I look like I have an appetite at the moment?" she threw back.

He had thrown his hands up in calm defense. "I'm just the doctor. If you don't eat, you know you'll be right back here."

She looked back at him as she reached the doorway. "Jack, tell me the truth. Is it doing better than it was?"

Instinctively she knew that it was never a good sign when a doctor looks down and sighs. "It's prolonging the inevitable. You really want a time estimate?"

"No, but I think I need one."

A plate sat on the desk with a half-eaten algae sandwich. She glared at it, wishing that it would suddenly morph into something edible. A time estimate, he had called it. He would tell her in a few days. It was borrowed time that she had been living on. Wanting to look at anything aside from the sandwich, she pulled open the top drawer of his desk. As she spotted a rare blank sheet of paper, a plan formed in her mind. She took a pen and began writing.

She left the letter under a book on the left side of his desk. Then she took another bite of the sandwich. _Deities, what I wouldn't give for a hamburger. The plant taste is making my skin crawl_. With a cup of tea, chamalla diluted in it, eventually she finished it, but her stomach and her mouth were in agreement on the disgusting nature of the food. She had dismissed Tory for the day, figuring that the woman had better things to do when Roslin would only be reading files for the remainder of the day. However, as her sandwich made an unfortunate reappearance later, she regretted dismissing her aide.

The admiral had left CIC with two more binary doodles. The fact that he had little control over writing them had begun to annoy him. Adama came home from his shift to find Roslin in the bathroom, dry-heaving. Doodles forgotten on his desk, he pressed a damp washcloth to her fore as she stood. "I can't keep anything down," she told him, her voice a raspy whisper.

As he touched her shoulder, she placed a hand on his. _She seems frail lately_, he reasoned. "Can you walk to Life Station?"

"I don't want to go back," she answered.

He took her by the hand and let her over to the couch. Then gave her a glass of water. She took a few small sips. The dog came into her view, planting himself by the hatch, as if wanting her to follow him. "Jack might be able to give you something so food stays down," Adama suggested.

She glanced at the dog, who stood up and wagged his tail, looking to her and then back to the hatch. "The dog agrees with you. It seems I've been outvoted."

Smiling patiently, Adama helped her stand and they walked to Life Station. Jack frowned at her when she stepped into the room. "I told you to eat something."

"I did. That's why I'm back. It wouldn't stay down," she told him curtly.

"Alright. Lie down and I'll see what I've got," he stated. Cottle perused through a few drawers and found another packet of crackers. After she had ingested the crackers along with more water, Roslin dozed off.

Adama followed Cottle as he returned to his office. "Jack, I don't care what she told you. I need to know how she's doing."

The doctor sighed and lit a cigarette before facing the admiral. "It's not working like it should. I'm just going to take her off it, since it's not doing much good anyway."

The other man had an iron grip on the doctor's desk. Slowly he released his hand and looked back at Cottle. "How long?"

"I can't say yet. I told her I'd give her an estimate in a few days," Cottle replied.

Releasing a heavy sigh, Adama paced the doctor's office. "Can't we do anything?"

"I'm out of ideas. Believe me, of all the patients, she's the one I'd want to give up on the least. We're just out of options for a cure," Cottle explained.

Adama glanced down for a moment in thought. "Then look for a way to buy her some time. You said Hera didn't have her blood type. I don't know how things like this work, but what if she had a transfusion of blood that was her blood type?"

"Wouldn't do what you're thinking. It would help nourish her blood, but it can't stop the disease. The only way to buy her time would be to help out her immune system at this point, but a blood transfusion alone wouldn't do that," Cottle mentioned.

"Well then let's find something that will!" Adama expressed, leaving the room.

Cottle sighed and shook his head. "Damned stubborn man. Of all the women to fall in love with, it had to be her. If my hair wasn't already white, those two would've turned it white by now."

Adama sat on the bed next to Roslin. She blinked as he stroked her cheek. "I'm not staying here all night."

He smiled at her insistence. "Of course you're not. You're staying with me again and I'll be keeping an eye on you if you need anything."

She smiled and closed her eyes for a moment, taking comfort in his presence. "There is something I need you to do for me. I've been thinking, we need to build that organic computer. Now I know how against the idea you are, but I really think it's the best way to find out what those binary doodles of yours do."

"Alright, all call the lab," he acquiesced.

"Thank you," she said, resting one of her hands on his forearm.

He kissed her forehead. "I think this is a call I should make from our quarters."

She smirked. "_Our_ quarters? And I thought that it was temporary."

"It doesn't have to be," he stated, rising to his feet.

Cottle glanced over at the two on his way to check his medical supplies. _Those two deserve to see this journey through to the end, wherever that may be. There's gotta be something I'm missing._ The doctor turned to see Adama kiss Roslin's forehead and then leave before he turned back to Roslin's file, hoping to find some answers.

(My thanks to max72, Mariel3, carolann, Ceridwyn2, murphycat, and Reagan for reviewing :D)


	17. In times of trial

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.

Chapter 17: In times of trial

Baltar hung up the phone and faced Sonya. "The president wants us to build an organic computer."

"Well that's a change. The first thing we need to do is figure out how the ones you saw on the Cylon ship operated," Sonya deduced.

He jammed his hands into his pockets and paced for a moment. "I don't know exactly. They just placed their hands in a gel-like substance and from it they could operate the computers."

She drummed her fingers on the table in thought. Then she blinked, as if a light had been switched on, and quickly turned back to him. "I think I understand! Alright, in order for them to be able to access something electronic by touch, their own nervous system would need to work like the hardware and wiring of a computer. So let's say for hypothetical purposes that their own neurons, instead of sending mere impulses like ours, would send information from their brains to the computers. Assuming that the binary code we've received from the Admiral has something to do with the Cylons, in order to access things, we would need a Cylon to be plugged into a unit, so to speak, either by touch, or by some other means of contact. Are you following me on this?"

The Six in his head told him, "_Just smile and nod, Gaius_." He complied and Sonya continued.

"Good. You're not as dumb as you look. Now can you tell me of a Cylon has 'plugged' into a computer in some other way?" she inquired.

"We had a Cylon directly interface with our systems by jamming a wire into her veins," he recalled.

"What we need is to have a set-up with a Cylon plugged in. What it's plugged into needs to hook up to a keyboard and monitor. We can type in the codes and find out what they do. The hardest part is going to be assembling all of this. I hope you're up to it," she relayed.

Baltar sighed and moved farther down the counter. "This is going to be a catastrophe," he whispered to Six.

"_It might be interesting. You might learn something_," Six stated.

He scoffed at the image of the Cylon. "This is ridiculously beyond us."

"_You're not giving up that easily_," Six remarked before slamming Baltar's head down into the counter. He slowly sat back up, wincing in pain.

Sonya had watched what she deemed one of his 'insanity incidents' and laughed at him. "I hate your guts, but you're funny as hell."

He looked over at her and frowned. "Glad I could serve as your entertainment."

"If you're done testing the density of your skull over there, you can get your ass over here and help me," she ordered.

They worked side by side, writing down plans, discussing diagrams, all in civil conversation. Then she left the stool to look for some of the electrical components that they would need. She had ceased her insults long enough to hear his input. Then they gave additional equipment requests to the guard. He left, intending to deliver them to the admiral, while the marine remained to watch Baltar and Sonya.

She looked over one of the papers that she had scrawled notes over and then glanced at the counter. "Could you hand me a pen?" she asked Baltar.

He turned and handed her one from the table behind him. "Here."

"Thank you," she said automatically, without looking up at him.

A slow smile spread over his face. "You don't hate me."

She raised an eyebrow at him, watching him with scrutiny. "What are you babbling about now? Of course I hate you."

"No you don't," he said in a teasing tone. "You've been treating me with some measure of civility."

Placing her hands on her hips, she glared at him. "I'm only working with you so we can get this done and then move on with our lives. You're such a frakking moron."

"You don't hate me." His voice had an almost sing-song quality to it.

"Yes, I do! Now quit bothering me," she retorted.

"No you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"No you don't."

"Shut up!"

Reaching up to grab his shirt by the collar, she dug her fingers into the material as she forcefully held him against the wall. _For her size, she's stronger than I would've given her credit_, he thought. "What are you doing?"

She pulled him down to her eye level while still pressing him to the wall. "I will not be tricked, manipulated," she paused and moved so close to him that their noses touched, "or seduced by you!" Then she let him go and returned to her stool, muttering inaudibly to herself.

He let out a breath that he had been holding. _If anyone's going to do the seducing, it won't be me this time_, he mused.

Six appeared off to his left again. "_She's a small woman and she's not very striking. You humans might call her pretty, but she's no knock-out_," Six whispered in his ear, using slang as she stroked his hair.

"Not interested. I value my life too much," Baltar responded.

The woman from his mind ran her fingers up and down the front buttons of his shirt. "_What does a woman like her want? Power. She wants something to conquer, or in this case someone_."

"She is probably seconds away from deciding how to remove my kidneys without my noticing, and you think she wants to seduce me?" Baltar whispered.

Six shook her head. "_Not seduce, conquer_."

He scoffed. "That is the single most absurd thing I have ever heard."

On Solaris Station, Kara considered the general's reaction to them to be absurd. "Why did Chesterton seem upset with us? We're not the enemy!" she told Abigail.

The linguist sighed and sat down, folding her hands in her lap. "_I'm sure General Chesterton will explain more when he arrives_."

"Fat chance," Sharon muttered.

Kara looked from Sharon to Abigail. "I agree with her at the moment. Look, you've done your tests on us. What's this really about?"

"How do you know our prisoner?" Abigail asked quietly. A small blinking red light on the wall behind the others reminded her that they were being watched.

Sharon sat up in her chair to explain. "Cylons have different models. Captain Thrace doesn't know the one you've got personally, but that model remembers what other copies have seen and experienced. There are even different personalities of the same Cylon copies."

Abigail closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. "_This is the most confusing explanation I've ever heard_."

"You should just airlock the guy," Kara stated.

"_What! I should kill him_?" Abigail asked incredulously.

"He lies and poisons people. He's a bad influence," Lee added.

The linguist stood and began pacing the room. "_You do realize that this whole thing doesn't make much sense, don't you? To me, what I see is a living, breathing, sentient life-form. I don't understand how he suddenly becomes disposable. Doesn't he have a soul_?"

"No," Kara spat.

Sharon cleared her throat. "Cylons do, but that gets transferred to the next body. There is something though called Final Death when a Cylon cannot be what we call 'uploaded' into the system at death."

"_Will he be followed? From what Captain Thrace has told us, the Cylons are a force to be reckoned with_," Abigail wondered.

At that moment, the door opened and General Chesterton walked in. "_Yes, Captain Thrace. Do tell us if he'll be followed_."

Lee slowly stood. "Excuse me sir, but were you watching us?"

"_Procedure, Mr. Adama_," the man gruffly answered.

"If his ship was destroyed before he could send a message to the others, then they probably won't come after him," Sharon mentioned.

Abigail folded her hands in front of her. "His ship just appeared here_. It's the strangest thing I've ever seen_."

"All gooey inside," Kara added.

The linguist nodded. "His language matched yours."

"_We brought him in for questioning, partly because of the language and partly because he looked suspicious. When he started talking nonsense, we arrested him_," Chesterton mentioned.

Lee folded his hands in front of him in a gesture that reminded Kara of the admiral. Then Lee faced the general. "Sir, what do you want from us?"

"_I've spoken with the doctors here and they think that you three should be held under quarantine before we let you anywhere near Earth_," Chesterton replied calmly.

Abigail stepped forward. "_But sir, you said the blood tests were fine_."

He raised an eyebrow at her and his expression morphed into a frown. "_Dr. Felds, this is my decision. These people could pose a danger to Earth and I want to run more tests. You are not to interfere. Am I clear_?"

She sighed and looked away. "_Perfectly, sir_."

"Are we at least allowed to tell our superiors that we'll be staying here for a while?" Lee suggested.

Kara stood, wanting to add her own input before the general could respond. "Look, sir, if you don't let us tell our leaders what's up, they'll come after us, and they won't be nice about it."

Chesterton looked from one to the other, mentally weighing the new information. "Very well. You may use our systems. The signal goes quite far."

He led them to a small office with a laptop screen and three pads of symbols that the Colonials could not read. "Sir, we don't know where your letters are, or how to operate this thing. We can do this faster from our own ship," Sharon remarked.

"Fine, but you stay here," he acquiesced.

Kara and Lee looked hesitant, but returned to the Raptor. Tigh was in CIC and had to call the admiral. Adama arrived a few minutes later. "So you made it to the station?" he asked.

Lee nodded. "Yes, but they seem to be having some issues with us. They want to quarantine us for a day and make sure we're not carrying any weird diseases."

"Something doesn't sound right about all this. I want you three back here by tomorrow," Adama ordered.

"Yes, sir," they replied simultaneously.

When they exited the Raptor, the general was waiting to escort them to sickbay. "What have you done with Sharon?" Kara asked, not seeing the Cylon.

The general put up a hand. "_She's fine. You'll be joining her shortly_."

Chesterton led them through more whitish hallways, to a room where they could see Sharon seated on a flat bed, and then he gestured for them to enter. Abigail paused outside of the door. "_You can't keep them here like this. It's wrong_."

He grabbed her upper arm and pulled her aside. "_I've had enough of your insubordination for today, doctor_."

"_None of them probably know the information you're looking for. You heard what Thrace said. If they aren't returned, their people will come after them_," Abigail argued.

"_That is my concern, not yours_," he glowered.

Abigail looked up at the general, calmly glaring at him. "Why don't you tell them what our prisoner has been saying? Maybe they would know what he means by 'Judgment Day.'" She was using the Colonial language again, hoping that they had overheard her.

Chesterton narrowed his eyes at her. "_Dr. Felds, I believe it's time you spoke with the archaeologist, Dr. Baldwin. You are dismissed for today_."

She sighed heavily and walked down the hall toward her quarters. After pressing the code into the key pad and leaning toward the eye-piece for a retinal scan, she slid the door open and entered. Her walls were a darker gray, but somehow the color change made her quarters feel more comfortable. The carpet was a dark blue, special ordered. They were standard quarters with a small kitchen arrangement as part of the living area, a closet-like bathroom, and a narrow bed. Before walking over toward her desk, she removed the batteries from the listening device on the wall, the one by her food processing unit, the one behind the couch, and the one under the lamp. The security camera was still on, but it only showed movement without sound.

Pulling up the screen, she sat down and activated one of the three key pads. After typing in a few codes, she waited for him. The image of a man with strawberry-blonde hair and a moustache appeared on her screen. "_Abigail, it's good to see you, my dear_," he said warmly.

She smiled. "_You too, James. How is your work coming_?"

"_Business only, Abbey_?" he asked, a hint of regret in his voice.

"_Business first_," she said quickly. "_I've used a few scrambling codes and blocked the listening devices. We've got a situation here_."

He raised an eyebrow. "_So the people of Kobol have finally shown up_?"

"_Yes. Chesterton wants to if you've found any proof of their being on Earth yet. You said the last dig looked promising_," she inquired.

"_They were here alright. We found a cave with a log carved into the wall, telling about their journey. They found people here and instead of trying to influence the culture by technology, they joined it. They may have contributed to some of the more developmental ideas of the Ancient Greeks, but as a whole they let things progress on their own_," he explained.

She nodded. "_Was there anything about a prophecy_?"

"_Only that some name, it looked like Pythia, led them here_," he told her. "_Since we're on business anyway, Sir Camden wanted me to ask you about the investigation of Project CERIS_."

Abigail glanced over her shoulder, as if to make sure that she was completely alone in the room. "_Chesterton's out of control He thinks that our new guests might know enough to help him with it. I think he should just let them go. From what I've learned from them, Project CERIS could get out of hand and be dangerous far too easily_."

James sighed. "So I guess that means you won't be coming home soon."

She slowly shook her head. "_I have to finish this. How's Aurora_?"

"_She misses her mother. I wish Sir Camden had picked someone else for this job. He didn't have to pick a woman with a family to do undercover work_," James expressed.

"_I'm sorry, darling. I'll be home as soon as I can_," she responded.

"_Take care of yourself, Abbey_," he stated.

Sighing, she nodded. "_You two, James_." As she turned off the screen, she found herself staring up at the metal plating of the ceiling, hoping that the Colonials would give her time before they came charging after their people.

Adama had called the lab from his quarters about the organic computer before being summoned to CIC and speaking with Kara and Lee. He faced Tigh when the transmission ended. "I've got a bad feeling about this. We may have to go and get them," he told his XO.

"Should've known it sounded too easy. For all we know, those humans think we're the aliens and they want to run all sorts of tests," Tigh grumbled.

The admiral stared down at the table, frustration building. _With the Cylons, at least we knew what to expect. These… Earthers as Kara called them, we don't know what's coming, what agendas they might have_. Then he turned his gaze back to Tigh. "Saul, if they don't show up by tomorrow, we're getting them out by whatever means necessary. I will not have our people led into a trap like this."

"Yes, sir," Tigh responded, nodding.

Adama returned to his quarters shortly and looked for a piece of paper to outline possible strategies if the other humans were not in the mood for negotiating. After tracing out a few ideas at his desk, he spotted the corner of another piece of paper, sticking out from under a book. He removed it and then unfolded it. Adjusting his glasses, he read the words.

"Bill, I need you to know how much I appreciate your friendship and your love. You've shared your life with me, and I only wish that I could share it a little longer. My time is running out as I write this. I wish that I had fifty years to give you in a cabin by a lake, but life isn't so kind these days. Being with you has meant more to me than being president ever could. I love you, and I want you to remember the good times, not my death. Your Laura."

He swallowed hard as he set the paper down. _She meant for me to read this after her death. You know when you've hit bottom in a day_. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, sorting out the mess in his mind. As his gaze drifted to his left hand, an idea for one of the few things that he could do something toward began to form. He perused through his desk drawers, looking for an extra chain. Finding one, he twisted his wedding ring from his finger and slipped it onto the chain. Dropping it into his pocket, he headed back to Life Station.

Roslin was sitting up on the bed, brushing the wrinkles from her skirt as he arrived. She smiled as he approached. "How are you feeling?" he inquired.

"Better. I should be up to eating again. I thought you'd be back sooner," she remarked.

"Something came up. I'll explain when we get home," he stated.

She smiled at how natural it sounded. He offered her his arm and she took it with a gracious nod. Cottle headed toward them before they could leave though. "I want you back here tomorrow. But I'm not giving you any more diloxin, since it's not doing much good. I want to know if anything else bothers you, vision, breathing, balance. But just because one thing didn't work, it doesn't mean I've given up."

Roslin touched the doctor's shoulder. "So all this has turned you into an optimist?"

"Only for you, young lady," he remarked. Then he cleared his throat and stepped back. "Alright, I have other patients and I don't need you two wasting any more of my time today."

The walk back to their quarters was quiet, but neither felt the need to talk. She slipped her shoes off and sank into his couch with a relaxed sigh as the tension ebbed from her. He sat down next to her and sighed. She looked over at him and gently touched his forearm. "You're brooding again."

He faced her. "The Earthers want to keep Lee, Kara, and Sharon for a while to run some tests. They claim it's for health reasons, but I don't trust this at all. If they aren't back by tomorrow, I'm planning to go and get them."

Folding her hands in her lap, she watched him. "Bill."

"You don't agree?" he wondered.

"Oh, on the contrary. You have every right to go and get our people back. But before you do, I want you to consider what it's going to look like if an armed ship suddenly appears. The last thing we need is an armed conflict with people we don't even know," she expressed.

Standing, he began to pace. "That's exactly the problem. With the Cylons, we knew what to expect. These other people are an unknown factor."

"As president, I need you to think carefully about this, whatever you decide. But as 'Laura,' I understand your need to get them back. Whatever you decide, I plan to be there with you in CIC for it. Maybe there's still time for a diplomatic discussion with these people," she suggested.

A smile slowly crept over his face. "Maybe you're right." Then he plunged a hand into his pocket and removed something that she could not make out. "I found a letter of yours while I was working out a battle strategy."

She eyed him with curiosity, then blinked, having realized what he had read. "Oh Bill, you weren't supposed to see that, not yet. I… I wanted to make sure I didn't forget to-"

"It's alright. It made me realize a few things," he interjected.

"Like what?" she asked.

Gently he took one of her hands and turned it over, dropping the chain and ring into her palm. She looked up at him, wide-eyed. "Laura, I want to share my quarters with you on more permanent terms."

"I- Bill, this is- I can't-" she stammered.

He shook his head, closing her hand over the ring and chain. "Marry me."

(My thanks to Calico Star, KappaOmega, murphybluecat, Ceridwyn2, carolann, BossaNovaBaby24, and Maud for reviewing :D)


	18. Burned bridges and new roads

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.

Chapter 18: Burned bridges and new roads

Roslin looked into Adama's eyes. The depth of his love for her was there, as well as pensive anticipation. She glanced down at their hands, noticing how right it felt to have her hands covered by his. A tear ran down her cheek as she whispered, "I can't."

He did not move from the couch, nor did he let go of her hand. "Why not?"

Her brow furrowed. "Have we forgotten that I'm dying? Have we forgotten that I'm the president? If the Quorum or the press-"

"All we'd need is one discreet priest."

"And if Zarek finds out? Granted he doesn't want to be president, but he'll use it as blackmail."

"He won't find out. The way your schedule works, we can even have two nights on the _Rising Star_."

"It'll look odd, having a priest come into your quarters."

"Not if you enter first. It'll look like a meeting and I'll come in last."

"What about my clothes?"

"That's what Tory is for."

"But we'd be taking a huge risk. It might be easier if I just stayed here and we skipped the legal-"

"No. You don't deserve to be a man's mistress. You deserve to be a man's wife."

The statement made her pause. She took a deep breath, letting her mind weigh what he had suggested. _He wants me, dying or not, he wants me. He loves me. Could we really make this work? I love him, but this will end up hurting him. Then again, no matter what, this will probably hurt both of us. He doesn't want me as a mistress. He loves me enough to be the man of honor I've always known him to be_.

A smile crept onto her face, slowly spreading into a broad grin as she gripped the hand that was holding hers. "One discreet priest, huh?"

The smile he returned was one of love, and a little pride that he was winning. "That's right."

"I'll need to tell Tory. And the guests should include no more than Saul, Jack, Kara, and Lee," she informed him.

He nodded. "Are there any other terms you'd like to negotiate?"

"Just one. I'd like to amend my answer to your question. Yes Bill, I will marry you," she responded.

Leaning forward, he kissed her warmly. "Good."

She smiled back as they parted. "What happens now?"

"Are you up to dinner?" he asked, standing.

"Yes. Dinner sounds good right now," she replied.

He headed toward the kitchen with her following him as she slid the chain with his wedding ring over her head. She watched as he opened the refrigerator. "Hmm, what to cook this time…"

"If you don't mind, I'd suggest something that isn't green," she remarked.

Closing the door, the thought for a moment. Then he walked over to a cabinet and squatted down to investigate it. "I might have something. It was in an airtight jar, but I'm not sure if I left it down here."

He began to pull several things out of the cabinet: an old cast-iron pot that Roslin had not seen him use before, a few frying pans, an apple-corer, a juicer for oranges, a blender, and other miscellaneous pots. She smirked. "Is the golden fleece in there by any chance?"

"Nope, the dragon guarding it won't fit in here." He chuckled, reaching into the back of the cabinet and finding what he had been searching for. He stood slowly as he held an air-tight glass jar. "Real noodles."

She blinked in astonishment. "I'll have to keep it in mind that you hide the good stuff in the back of your cabinets. At the moment, real noodles are almost as mythical as the golden fleece."

He replaced the other items in the cabinet and began to boil water for the noodles in a glass pan. "I forgot that they were back there."

"Bill, do you think the people on Earth know our cultural stories?" she asked, watching as tiny bubbles popped on the water's surface.

"If they don't, we'll teach them," he responded, dropping the noodles into the water.

Roslin leaned back on one of the counters. "I just hope they'll be reasonable, once we've gotten things sorted out."

Adama nodded, stirring the noodles. "If not, then we may have to resort to finding another planet."

"We can't afford to fight a war on two fronts," she said with a sigh.

Turning toward her, he rested a hand on her shoulder. "At least we've stopped fighting what might've been a war on three fronts."

She smiled and leaned forward, brushing her lips with his. "Thank goodness for small victories then."

He shook his head, grinning at her as he wrapped his other arm around her waist. "Not so small," he remarked before kissing her soundly.

A little moan escaped her throat as she linked her hands behind his neck. Suddenly the oven timer beeped, startling both of them. They exchanged glances and laughed. Adama made sauce to accompany the noodles and dinner was delicious. That night he gave Roslin the bed while he took the couch. Before she drifted off to sleep, she wondered what their new acquaintances were up to.

Kara and Lee had joined Sharon in the quarantine room. Blood samples were taken again, followed by X-rays and micro-cellular scans. After the tests, Chesterton walked them over to another room, which contained three beds and ration packets. "_You three will stay here tonight and we will return you to your people soon_."

"I can't believe they left us with ration packets," Sharon remarked as the gruff man left.

Lee sank down onto one of the beds as Kara flopped onto another. "You really think they're going to let us go in the morning, Apollo?"

He sighed heavily. "I don't know, Starbuck, but right now I'm more worried about why Leoben his here"

Kara groaned and rubbed her eyes. "You just had to remind me."

"The Earthers can't be all bad. I wonder where the general sent Dr. Felds," Sharon remarked.

"With our luck, she was probably fired," Kara deduced.

Sharon stood and began walking the perimeter of the room. "We need to look for a way out of this place."

After a few hours, they heard someone at the door. They all jerked their heads to the door as they heard it slide open. "Dr. Felds, what are you doing here?" Lee inquired.

She stood before them with only something that resembled a small gray remote control in her hand. "I've scrambled the visual and audio devices that would usually be watching you, but it'll only last about ten minutes."

"What's really going on here?" Kara probed.

Abigail looked from one side to the other and then stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. "I'm getting you three out of here, but it'll take some time. Right now I'd like to have one of you talk to the prisoner. I'm not sure what Chesterton has in mind to do with him, but I don't think he'll be around much longer."

Kara stood. "I'll go."

The brown-haired woman nodded. "The rest of you, pretend that you're asleep and set that other bed up like someone's using it."

Ruse in place, Kara and Abigail left. "Why does the scrambling only last ten minutes?" Kara asked, whispering.

"The devices reset themselves if they can't transmit signals within ten minutes," Abigail answered.

The two women walked down the empty hall. Most of the crew had turned in for the evening and they headed toward the brig without meeting anyone. Once they reached the brig, a guard stood by the door though. Abigail motioned for Kara to wait around the corner as she walked over to him. "_Lieutenant Black, General Chesterton wanted me to remind you about your coffee break. I'll be keeping an eye on the prisoner until you return_."

The dark-haired man eyed her with curiosity. "_Ma'am, I don't think that's a good idea_."

"_The door is locked and he can't get out. What's the problem_?" she pointed out.

He shifted from one foot to the other in hesitation. "_I suppose, but be careful_."

"_I will, lieutenant, and thank you_," she stated as he left, heading in the opposite direction from the one that she had come.

She motioned for Kara to join her and then she sent the scrambling signal again. Then she slid the door back and stepped inside, followed by Kara. Leoben sat on the floor, blood caked on his nose from an altercation with whom Kara could only guess. He looked up at her and smirked. "I knew you couldn't stay away."

Kara rolled her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. I've got less than ten minutes. Why did you come here?"

He sighed. "You always wanted the straight answers, no small talk. Alright, the Cylons are in a civil war, one side in favor of machines as the ultimate beings, the other wanting to befriend and ally with the humans."

"And you're going to tell me that you're on the good side?" Kara mused.

"Yes. I'm on the side that wants to work with the humans. Trying to annihilate you was senseless. We should've been trying to understand you. Judgment Day is near. The others, those who favor the machines, they will find this base and destroy it. You have to get to Earth first," he explained.

"What is 'Judgment Day?'" Kara inquired.

"Pythia will bring the people to Earth and the battle will be decided by the Guardian. She will face a sacrifice," he answered.

"We have to go," Abigail interrupted.

Kara nodded and the two women headed for the door. "Wait," Leoben called. Kara turned back to face him. "They want to copy me, Kara. You've got to stop them. You've got to stop the project."

Abigail and Kara quickly left the room and Kara returned to the corner as Abigail nodded to the guard who had returned from his coffee break. Then the two women headed back to the other room where Lee and Sharon waited. "What project?" Kara asked.

"Project CERIS, Classified Electronic Reanimated Intelligence Series. I'm assigned to shut it down," Abigail explained.

They reached the room and the linguist scrambled the system again. Kara quickly told the others about the encounter with Leoben. "So now they're trying to make Cylons too?" Lee asked.

Abigail shook her head. "As soon as Chesterton found out that our prisoner was an organic machine, he wanted to know everything about how your acquaintance worked. I don't have much time. I'm going to get you three out of here tonight."

"Come with us," Lee offered.

"I can't. I have to shut down the project," the linguist mentioned.

"Maybe I can help," Sharon volunteered.

The brown-haired woman stepped back to consider the situation. "Alright, but you two," she motioned to Kara and Lee "had better use the sleeping ruse again." They nodded and Sharon left with Abigail.

While they were gone, Lee turned on his bed to face Kara. The bed that they were using as a ruse with pillows and blankets was on his other side. "Can you really believe what Leoben told you?" he asked in a whisper.

She sighed. "I shouldn't. I know he's a lying piece of scum, usually, but it's different this time. I don't know about the whole 'Cylon civil war' thing, but I think he might've been telling the truth about 'Judgment Day.'"

"I just hope Dr. Felds and Sharon don't run into the general," Lee mentioned quietly.

Abigail led Sharon down a series of empty corridors, stopping at a door with no external windows. She paused before using the scrambler. "Most people would find this disturbing, just to warn you."

As they entered the room, Sharon froze at the grotesque sight in front of them. "Frakkin' Lords of Kobol," she exclaimed in a whisper. Four cadavers lay out on tables, their bodies sliced open for what could have been autopsies. Parts were missing from all of them, lungs from one, heart from another, pieces of skin. Arteries, tendons, and bone were exposed in various ways. "Why doesn't it smell in here?"

"The room has a separate air filtration system from the rest of the ship. It used to be the morgue. It sucks the bacteria out of the atmosphere, keeps the room cool, and circulates a sterilizing agent," Abigail explained.

Sharon nodded, looking from Abigail to two other tables. Metal frames for robots were stretched out on the table, loose wires dangling over the edge. Her eyes widened as she looked to a horizontal cylindrical chamber of sorts. Inside someone had fused veins with wires, placed organs on a metal frame. "What exactly do you have to do?"

"I've got to shut down that, and erase the data on the project. It's tricky though because it's got a backup system and an automatic data retriever that activates at the point of a system crash," the linguist clarified, walking over to a console. Then she looked over at Sharon. "Frankenstein's monster on modern terms."

Sharon headed toward the other woman. "Frank-what?"

"Sorry, cultural reference. I'll explain later. I just can't seem to shut the whole thing down," the linguist stated.

Sighing, Sharon looked for the wires of the unit. "How much time do we have?"

"About four minutes."

"Let me try something," Sharon said, pulling out a pocket knife. Giving herself a cut, she winced at the discomfort and slid a few wires into the necessary spot.

The lights in the room began to flicker and then Abigail heard the systems power down. "What did you do?"

Sharon removed the wires and wrapped her wrist with gauze that she had spotted on a nearby table. "Cylons can interface directly with computers. You said you needed to shut things down. The data retriever won't find anything."

"Thank you," Abigail told her as they left.

As Sharon entered the room where Kara and Lee waited, Abigail spoke to the other two. "We were able to shut things down. I'll be back. I need to change a few settings so that your launch isn't detected."

"Are you coming with us?" Kara inquired.

Abigail thought for a moment. "I suppose I could. I'll bring the coordinates to Earth with me."

Later when she returned for them, she had a blue duffle bag hanging over her shoulder. "As usual, we don't have much time." The others nodded and followed her to the docking bay.

The Raptor launch went as planned and soon they were floating in space, heading back to _Galactica_. As the ship loomed into view, Kara contacted them. "This is Starbuck in Raptor Seven to Galactica Actual, we've returned."

Tigh's voice was heard on the wireless. "This is Galactica. Good to know we won't have to start a war to get you back."

"Colonel, where's the Old Man?" she asked.

"His shift doesn't start for another hour, but I gave him a call. Anything new to report, Starbuck?"

Kara grinned at Abigail before replying. "Yes sir. We've got a way to Earth and a visitor."

(A/N: I'm sorry that it's been so long since my last posting. I've been inundated with work lately).

(My thanks to BossaNovaBaby24, max72, Calico Star, sosayweall, Ceridwyn2, murphybluecat, caramelapples, carolann, Freelancer, Maud, and T. Jonesy for reviewing :D)


	19. Coming home

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel. (A/N: In my version of things, because the diloxin treatments were not working much, Roslin still has her own hair).

Chapter 19: Coming home

Adama blinked, stretching on the couch before sitting up to reach his watch. He had awakened half an hour before his alarm would have gone off. He glanced toward his sleeping area to see the vague outline of the woman he loved. Recalling the previous day, he smiled to himself. He walked quietly over to his rack and turned off his alarm clock so that it would not wake her. Then he grabbed his clothes and headed for the shower.

After leaving the shower, he called the mess hall for algae pancakes and coffee. As he waited for the breakfast, he removed two mugs from one of his kitchen cabinets and returned to the living room. He noticed that Roslin's files sat askew with some of them at different angles and decided to reshuffle them for her, placing them in an orderly file. Breakfast arrived and he set the pancakes down on the desk before pouring two cups of coffee. Then he walked into his sleeping area.

Roslin blinked as she felt a weight on the bed. She smiled up at Adama, stretching before sitting up. "Good morning."

"Good morning," he replied.

"What time is it?" she asked with a yawn, noticing that he was fully dressed.

He glanced over at the clock. "Almost 0600."

"You let me sleep in? And is that coffee I smell?" she inquired with an amused smile.

Handing her a mug, he replied, "I didn't see any harm in it. The mess hall made pancakes this morning too."

She took a drink from her mug and then moved to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. As she moved, she felt something swish across her chest and glanced down to see the ring on its chain. When she looked back at him, he grinned. "Coffee and pancakes, as wonderful as it sounds, and smells, there is one thing I think that I like waking up better to."

He raised an eyebrow as she set the mug down on the floor by her feet. "Oh? And what would that be?"

"You," she said quietly, leaning in to kiss him. His mug followed hers and he wrapped his arms around her waist. The kiss was gently, yet passionate, neither of them wanting to part any time soon. One of his hands lost itself in her soft hair. Her hands crept up his chest.

Suddenly the phone rang, startling both of them. He reached past her to answer it, his arm brushing her back. "Adama. That's good news. I'll be right there. Thanks, Saul."

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow as he hung up the phone. "Why do I get the feeling that this will be a regular occurrence, our being interrupted?"

He flashed her an amused smile. "Because you and I lead busy lives. The Raptor's back and Saul said they have a visitor." He sighed before telling her the rest. "That means I need to go."

She nodded with understanding as she picked both mugs off the floor, handing his back to him. "I'll join you as soon as I can. I need to contact Tory for my clothes. The ones in the guest quarters were all in the laundry."

As she moved to stand, he gently grasped her arm, pulling her back to him to steal one more kiss. "Don't forget to eat."

She smirked, letting the spark of mischief flash in her eyes. "Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Anything you say, sir."

It was moments like that in which he could forget that she was dying, for however briefly they lasted. He took one last look at her, sitting at his desk as she ate the pancakes, before he left for CIC. He entered the room and walked down to the center where Tigh stood. "Are we sure it's them?" he asked his XO.

The colonel nodded. "Absolutely."

He used the wireless and then handed the phone to the admiral. "Galactica Actual here. What is your status?"

Kara's voice crackles slightly and Adama made a mental note to have the maintenance crew look at the audio system again. "Starbuck here. We're all fine, sir. One of their scientists helped us escape. She's with us, and we've got a lot more to tell you when we dock."

"Go ahead, Starbuck," Adama responded. "We'll meet you at the docking bay."

"Yes, sir," she responded.

Before leaving CIC, Adama stopped to call Roslin. He picked up the phone and dialed his quarters. "Madame President, I'm heading to the docking bay to see Captain Thrace and the others. You might want to come as well. They say they've brought a scientist back with them."

Roslin had been about to walk to CIC when the phone rang. After Adama explained the situation, she sighed at his formality. "You're not on a secure line, are you?"

"I'm afraid that will have to wait," he responded.

"Then I'll see you at the docking bay, Admiral," she ended.

Adama hung up his end of the phone before he and Tigh began walking, followed by two marine guards. Tigh walked on Adama's left and casually glanced down, noticing the admiral's left hand. He cleared his throat and the other man faced him as they continued moving. "Missing something, Admiral?"

Following Tigh's line of sight, Adama knew exactly what his friend was referring to. "No, I know exactly where it is."

"Or who has it," Tigh added with a smirk. Adama shot him 'the glare' before they entered the docking bay.

Roslin's security detail was not far behind and he paused as she approached. They nodded at each other and then headed toward the Raptor. Kara had exited the vessel, followed by Lee and Sharon. As the others neared them, one last person stepped out of the Raptor, a small brown-haired woman with pixie-like facial features, wearing a white lab coat.

"The mission was successful, sir," Lee remarked, handing an electronic pad to Adama.

Abigail watched the exchange as a woman stepped up to the man that Lee had called 'sir.' The linguist took a small step back, seeing the armed guards. Kara turned back to her and smiled. "You're safe here."

"Tell that to them," Abigail stated, not moving.

Kara looked back to the admiral and the president. "This is our guest. She helped us escape and she's not a Cylon. Dr. Felds, meet Admiral Adama and President Roslin."

Roslin smiled and extended her hand to the other woman. "Hello. Welcome to the survivors of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol."

Abigail shook the president's hand and stepped forward, not feeling quite as nervous. "Madame President, it's good to meet you."

Adama extended his hand to her as well. "Welcome aboard the Battlestar _Galactica_."

"Thank you, Admiral. When I woke up yesterday morning, I had no idea that I'd be standing here right now," Abigail remarked.

Roslin eyed her with curiosity. "How do you know our language?"

"When Kara first came to us on Earth, we did not know your language. But after finding that it was very close to one of our older languages, I have been studying it over the past month. I'm a linguist."

"Ah." Roslin glanced around at the crowd on the deck that had begun to assemble. "Perhaps we should continue this meeting somewhere else?" she suggested to Adama.

He nodded. "Everyone, follow me."

Later in his quarters, Tigh, Tory, Adama, Roslin, Lee, Kara, Sharon, and Abigail sat to discuss the events of the past few hours. "They had a Leoben as a prisoner," Kara began. "He said the Cylons are having a civil war between those that want to help the humans and those that think machines are best. He also said that 'Pythia will bring the people to Earth and the battle will be decided by the Guardian. She will face a sacrifice.' I don't know if we should believe him, but I've got a feeling that his story isn't as much of a lie as usual."

Adama glanced over at Roslin, who sat with her hands in her lap. To everyone else, she was calmly listening. To him, he noticed that the color had drained from her face. She met his concerned gaze and then shook her head, as if to dismiss it for the moment. Sharon moved to speak as well. "This general, Chesterton, wanted to duplicate Leoben. Dr. Felds and I shut down the project though."

"Does he know you're with us?" Adama asked Abigail.

She shifted uncomfortably on her edge of the couch. "He probably knows that I left, and that I helped to sabotage his project. I don't know what he'll do."

"You think he'll come after you?" Tigh inquired.

She shook her head. "I wasn't all that important to him. He will probably tell anyone who asks that I've died somehow, rather than telling them that I helped other humans escape."

"Aside from yourself and Chesterton, does anyone know that we're out there looking for Earth?" Roslin probed.

"The only other people that know are my boss and an archaeologist. I was assigned to the station to keep an eye on Chesterton after Kara landed on Earth," the linguist explained. Suddenly her eyes widened. "I need to contact both of them and let them known I'm not dead."

"Why is the archaeologist so important?" Tigh asked.

Abigail folded her hands in her lap, staring at them as if the words were hidden in her fingers. At last she looked back up at the others. "He has found proof that your people landed on Earth and have been living there ever since."

"And that has to do with you why?" Lee continued.

The woman sighed. "He's my husband. When I was asked to take this mission, I had to pretend that I was single for my cover."

Adama and Roslin exchanged a quick glance that no one, except Abigail, noticed. "I don't know if we can communicate with Earth from here."

"That's not a problem. If you continue on the course you're on, you'll be in range within the next day. Now I think that I have been more than fair in answering all of your questions. I would like to know what in the world this business about 'Judgment Day,' a guardian, and someone named 'Pythia' have to do with everything."

"I'm afraid that explanation could take several days," Adama responded.

"Then may I at least have a synopsis?" the woman requested.

Roslin nodded. "Pythia is the dying leader of our people. In our mythology, she leads our people to the Thirteenth Tribe. The Guardian has been a recent discovery who is supposed to act as judge between humans and Cylons in a conflict that we are assuming to be 'Judgment Day.'"

"How interesting. I have one more question. What did your shuttle do when it blinked from where Solaris Station was, and we ended up here?" Abigail wondered.

"That's called an FTL jump. It's how we cover long distances," Lee supplied.

Abigail nodded and yawned. "This is turning into quite an adventure."

Kara looked over at the president and the admiral. "Sir, Madame Prez, we haven't slept. Would it be alright if we all take a couple of hours to get in some rack time?"

Adama nodded. "Good idea, Starbuck. I think we have some guest quarters available for our guest."

"Why don't show here where?" Roslin volunteered. "It's on the way to some files that I've been meaning to pick up."

The president and Tory left, as did Sharon, but Adama stopped Tigh, Kara, and Lee. "There's something I'd like to tell you three as soon as the president returns. I'd also like to include on other person."

They exchanged puzzled glances, but sat back down as Adama called Cottle.

Roslin and Abigail stopped outside a door. The president entered and picked up an armful of folders. The linguist noticed a desk, cot, table, chairs, and small refrigeration unit. "I hope this will be alright for you. If you need anything, the admiral's quarters are just down the hall, where we were meeting at," Roslin informed her.

She nodded. "Thank you, Madame President."

Before leaving, Roslin smiled back. She returned to the admiral's quarters just after Cottle had arrived. As she sat next to Adama, Cottle eyed them both with scrutiny. "What's this all about? I happen to have patients waiting for me."

The two exchanged smiles. "This won't take long," Adama stated as he faced the other four. "Laura and I are getting married and we want you four to be witnesses."

"It's about damn time!" Cottle exclaimed.

Kara grinned. "Finally, the soap opera gets even more interesting."

"So that's where your ring ended up," Tigh deduced as Roslin blushed.

Lee walked over to them. Adama felt a stab of concern, fearing that his son, after everything that had happened, would not approve and try to talk him out of it. Instead the younger man smiled. "Congratulations. And I might know where you can find a priest, if you need to keep this a secret from the fleet."

Roslin smiled warmly, truly touched by his concern for them. "Thank you, Captain Apollo."

As they left the room, some to sleep, others to carry on with their daily activities, a grin remained on Lee's face. By calling him 'Captain Apollo' she had forgiven him. It could be the end of the world again, but she had forgiven him.

(My thanks to BossaNovaBaby24, murphybluecat, Leliana McKay, carolann, and Freelancer for reviewing :D)


	20. For the moment

Chapter 20:

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.

Chapter 20: For the moment

Adama had gone back to CIC while Roslin had met with Tory in the boardroom before dealing with the Quorum. "I refuse to discuss the sweater issue any more. It's absolutely a waste of our time. If they haven't sorted this out by now, then it's no longer my problem. I've already mediated this one," Roslin reminded her aide.

Tory nodded in agreement, glancing at her watch. The Quorum would arrive in ten minutes. "I told them they shouldn't be bringing it up again, but now they claim that they are paying too much for sweaters of inferior quality."

Roslin rubbed her temples, trying to ward off an impending headache. "I will simply tell them that we have more important things to worry about than sweaters."

"So you're going to tell them about Captain Thrace's mission?" Tory probed.

The president nodded. "I'll just leave out the detail that they brought someone back with them. That poor woman doesn't need our press hassling her."

"Was there anything else, ma'am?" Tory asked, lining up the discussion topics in their folders as they stood outside the door.

Roslin leaned toward her. "Just one thing, the admiral and I have decided to get married. Is there any room in my schedule for a day off?"

Tory's eyes widened at the sudden news. "Ma'am, I know that you know how risky something like this could be. What could prompt you to- to accept this?"

The older woman smiled warmly. "I don't have forever, Tory. I love him. We've agreed to do this secretly with only a few witnesses and one priest. Lee Adama is looking into that part. I need you to help me find a good day."

Still in shock, the aide began to flip through Roslin's scheduling folder. "I'm sorry ma'am, but you're booked solid for the next three days."

Roslin sighed and paced the room for a moment. Then an idea flashed in her mind. "What do I have in the afternoon?"

Tory raised an eyebrow. "For today?" The older woman nodded and her aide continued. "After this meeting, you have lunch scheduled, followed by a meeting with the vice president about the algae reserves and some of the Sagittarian issues. Then you've scheduled a meeting with the admiral and whomever is planning our course for an update on our progress to Earth."

"And after that?" Rosin inquired, as smile forming on her face.

"That's it. Today is surprisingly light," Tory replied, shutting the schedule folder.

Roslin leaned forward on the table in front of Tory. "I need you to do me a favor. If my idea works, then I'll need to make sure that nobody will be looking for me for the rest of the day after I find out how our course is going."

"I'll help you in any way that I can, ma'am," Tory replied.

The president looked around the boardroom for a phone. "I'll need you to return to _Colonial One_ while I stay here. If anyone calls, you are to take messages and tell them I'm not feeling well."

It was a rare thing to see Tory Foster smile. She watched Roslin with a grin. "You're planning to move the wedding date up?"

"If everything works out, yes," the president answered, picking up the phone. "And Tory, one more thing. Do me a favor and detain Lee Adama after this meeting, will you? He's the one in charge of finding the priest."

The aide nodded. "Certainly, ma'am."

Knowing that she only had a few minutes before people began to arrive, Roslin phoned CIC. The admiral answered the phone. "Adama."

"Admiral, I need to speak with you on a secure line," the president's voice told him.

He looked over at Tigh, who winked none too discreetly. "Just a minute. Alright. Is everything okay?"

"I've just checked my schedule and it's rather full for the next three days, but today things are lighter. I know this is… rushed at the very least, but if Lee can find a priest, we can get married this afternoon following our course briefing," she suggested.

Adama chuckled softly. "'Rushed' is definitely the word I'd use. I wanted to book some time on the _Rising Star_ for us."

Roslin sighed. "I know. Two days would've been wonderful, but our lives are too busy at the moment for either of us to take off that kind of time."

_Time's the one thing we never seem to have_. He paused, contemplating possible scenarios for time off. In his original planning, he had not figured on Kara's group brining back a guest, let alone the possibility of them running into two groups of Cylons. "I wish we had more time," he allowed himself to say.

"Me too. Maybe we should just enjoy what we do have," she added.

"I am," he stated, almost automatically. As the words left his lips, his mind was made up. "Alright, I'll pass the word along to Saul, and then to Kara when she gets here."

"And I'll make sure that Jack knows," she mentioned.

"What's your earliest meeting tomorrow?" he inquired.

She blushed and Tory wondered what had just been said. "Unfortunately I've got a meeting at seven in the morning with what we've been calling the Board of Education. The wanted to speak with me regarding their curriculum and our cultural stories."

"Why so early?" he questioned.

"It's before their classes start," she told him rationally. "We'll sort this out, Bill. I promise."

"I know. Good luck with your Quorum meeting," he said.

"Thanks, I'll see you later," she responded before hanging up the phone.

As the 'Old Man' turned his attention back to the viewscreen, Tigh walked over to him. "How is she?"

Adama sighed. "She wants to get married today. It's the only day when there's a break in her schedule."

"I'm guessing it means that you two can't just disappear like you wanted to," Tigh stated quietly.

"Our lives right now won't allow for it," the admiral responded. Tigh made a mental note to find a way for the two highest ranking officials in the fleet to have time off.

Later during Adama's shift, he received a phone call from the lab. "Admiral, this is Sonya Getani."

"Is Baltar bothering you?" Adama asked.

"No, sir, but perhaps you'd like to come by and see what progress we have so far," she suggested. He told her that he would be there shortly, leaving CIC with Tigh.

When Adama reached the lab, Sonya let him in. Spread out on one of the long tables were the basic hardware computer components such as circuit boards and wires along with small flat circular devices and what resembled pieces of an ultrasonic scanning system. Baltar stood immediately as Adama entered the room.

"As you can see here, we've got a great deal of work to do. We're missing a few components though. I know what we need, but it seems that I should ask you first," Sonya explained.

"What do you need specifically?" Adama probed.

Baltar spoke. "There are certain chemicals that will assist the potential for bio-neurological interaction, chemicals and other compounds that this lab doesn't have."

"Basically I need to return to the Black Market for a day," Sonya mentioned.

"How can I be sure that you'll be back?" Adama questioned.

Sonya rested her hands on the table. "You can't. You'll just have to trust me."

The admiral folded his hands in front of him. "I'm afraid, Miss Getani, that I need a better reason than that."

While she glanced around the room and attempted to make a plan, Baltar had ideas of his own. "Why don't you just have one of your marines follow her in regular attire?"

She whipped her head around to glare at him. Adama stepped toward the two. "Dr. Baltar that's probably the best idea I've ever heard from you. Miss Getani, you may return as long as you are watched. And one more thing, see if you can locate a box of cornflakes."

Baltar raised an eyebrow. "Cornflakes? I suppose people have made stranger requests."

"Fine," she grumbled. "I need something to trade though. Is it alright if I take a couple of vitamin samples with me, and maybe a few electronic parts?"

As much as he did not like the Black Market, he understood how it worked. "If you have to."

Sonya left the lab shortly after the conversation. On the transport to the _Prometheus_, the marine sat five people away from her. They docked and entered the chaotic, crowding environment that thrived onboard the vessel. Venders and peddlers offered anything and everything, from narcotics to what was left of actual food, to jewelry and luxury items, to clothing and books. If it were not for the crowding, the scent of burning oca, and the constant brushing of hands near her pockets, the scene might have passed for a shopping center. She neared one of the venders selling sweaters.

"Arnie," she called the squatty bald man.

He looked up at her with beady brown eyes. "What do you want, lady?"

Sonya rolled her eyes. "It's me, Sonny Jets. I need you to tell _him_ that I'm back for today."

Arnie gave her a grin that showed the gaps in his yellowed teeth where the root had rotted away some of them. "It's been a while, Jets. Almost didn't recognize you with your hair out like that. Can't pass for a man much today."

It had been a gimmick of hers to have her head covered when she was working, and to wear an androgynous uniform, so that her identity could be kept secret, and so that when she went to other ships, she could dress as other women did and no one would suspect her of being involved in much. Only two people knew what she looked like outside of her costume: Arnie and her boss.

"Look, I need to see _him_, now. I've got a situation that can't wait," she told him, leaning forward over his sales counter.

"Boy, you must really be desperate. Tell you what, these days a box of cornflakes, rare as that is, costs a sweater. You trade me something interesting for a sweater and that stand over there," he paused to point to a stand with a rainbow curtain in front of it, "will give you whatever food you want. Commodities like dry cereal ended up here."

"What about seeing _him_?" she pursued.

"Get your cereal and come back," he suggested.

She reached into the inside pocket of her jacket, where she had kept a few things hidden. Then she removed the vitamin samples. "I'm sure someone will want these."

Arnie fingered the vials. "It'll work for a sweater, but if you want to see the boss, I hope you've got something better."

She took the sweater he handed her, and then made the exchange for the box of cornflakes. When she returned to Arnie, he was trading two more sweaters with customers, one for books, the other for what looked like a statue of one of their deities. "What's that supposed to be? And doesn't everybody have a bunch of those?"

"Not everyone has a statue of Thanatos. Now, what else can you trade to see _him_?" Arnie bargained.

Fishing through a few other pockets, she removed a few good fuses, a working flashlight, a circuit connector, and her watch. Arnie shook his head. "Not good enough. Come on, I know you're holding out on me."

"This was all I could find. They arrested me and took everything I had," she protested.

"You don't have even one piece of gold jewelry then?" Arnie asked.

Sonya rolled her eyes and sighed. Then an idea occurred to her. "I have certain information. Will you take that?"

"I don't know. Tell me and I'll decide," Arnie suggested.

She shook her head. "No deal. You'll take me if I tell you."

"Nope, I listen first, then I'll decide if it was worth it," Arnie countered.

Taking a step back, she folded her arms in front of her. "Then I'll take it to Molloy. I know he's in with the boss. Maybe I'll have better luck with him."

As she began to walk away, her ploy worked and Arnie called after her. "Alright, I'll do it, but you'd better have something good for this."

Sonya smirked. "Oh, it is good." She leaned in closer, pretending that she could not smell the man's rank breath. "There's something going on that's going clear up to the top brass, and I think it has something to do with our supposed mission to Earth. I got roped into this project. Guess who else I'm stuck working with, Baltar. Yes, Dr. I-can't-remember-who-I'm-sleeping-with himself."

"Is he still alive?" Arnie asked.

"For now," she responded.

Arnie snorted. "I'm surprised you haven't killed him yet."

"Why kill him when I'd much rather see him squirm? He's afraid of me, and that's much better revenge than instantaneous death," she replied.

"What's the project for?" Arnie inquired.

Sonya glanced from left to right. "It's the reason that I need to see the boss."

Arnie sighed. "Alright, you win. Follow me."

He left his stand, moving behind others, finding the wall off to the side of the main deck. He stopped at a ladder. Then he proceeded to climb the ladder with Sonya following. The marine stayed behind them at a distance, following them slowly. He stopped when he had reached the top of the ladder, listening for their footsteps as Arnie and Sonya walked down the hall. The marine emerged just in time to see a flash of clothing, indicating with hallway they had taken. They stopped outside of the door and Arnie used an eight-knock code.

Arnie stepped inside and closed the door. A moment later, he stepped back out. "Go on," he told Sonya.

She resisted the urge to jump as the door closed behind her. Oca smoke permeated the room as she entered, squinting in the dim lighting. She could make out the vague outline of a man as he sat at his desk and smoked from a device that resembled an antique lamp in shape, with the exception of a tube with a cigar in place of a cord.

"Sonny, nice of you to drop by," her boss said. His voice had always been surprisingly boyish. She took two steps forward. "Please, come closer. I know you need a favor. Arnie, he tells me you have some information though. You can start back at your regular job in-"

"Nigel, I don't have much time. I can't come back just yet."

"Sonny, Sonny, if it's that important, then I'll make the accommodations. Just tell me if you are intending to come back to us."

"I am. I'm working on a project and I need these chemicals," she remarked, placing the list on his desk. "Something big is going to happen soon. There's been a lot of talk about someone called 'the Guardian,' and then the Cylon I got stuck in the brig with for a while, she talked about the Final Five, as in five more Cylons."

Before she could move back, he grabbed her wrist, no tightly, but firmly. "Do they know about who you work for down here?"

"No," she answered, her eyes drifting to the data port sticking up from his arm. _Oh frak_. "How long have you had that?"

He let her go, his dark chuckle causing her to take a step back. "It helps me run things more efficiently. I'm Nigel Gorgon. What's to know?"

"I still need those chemicals," she reminded, deciding not to let her shock show. If she downplayed things, maybe he would simply let her go.

Looking more like a shadow than a man in the dim light, he simply threw up his arms in a non-committal gesture. "Go ahead." He scribbled a note for her.

She took it and headed for the door, pausing before she exited. "Are you a Cylon, Nigel?" she asked nonchalantly.

"Would it make a difference to you if I was?" he inquired as another ring of oca smoke dispersed into the ceiling.

Shrugging, she pressed a hand to the door. _I have to pretend that I don't care. If I treat this like I don't care, I may get out of here alive_. "Probably not. I mean, it's just good business down here, right?"

The shadow laughed again. "Yeah, good business. I always knew you were okay, Sonny. You and Arnie, you've been down here long enough to have oca in your veins when it comes to life. See you around."

She smiled back over her shoulder. "Yeah, I'll see you around."

Stepping out of the door, she handed the note to Arnie. "Let's go," he told her. "I'm glad the boss listens to you. Last guy I led up here, I don't know what the boss did to him, but he never came back."

"He seemed, I don't know, different from the last time I saw him," Sonya mentioned.

"Last time he wasn't plugging into his own computer. I don't know what happened to him, but it's downright frakkin' weird. Just don't tell him I said anything," Arnie added as they wandered back to the ladder.

"Of course not," she replied.

In another part of the ship, Abigail stretched on her bed and yawned. Having no idea how many hours she had slept, she glanced around the guest quarters, hoping to see a standard clock. Not seeing any, she resorted to her bag. In the small bag that she had managed to grab, a watch was not in her inventory. She sighed and made her way to the door. Standing outside was a man in some sort of black uniform, holding a weapon. He saw her step out and nodded politely.

"The admiral said that I was to bring you to CIC when you woke up," the man explained.

She took a deep breath, closing the door behind her, taking the translation microphone that she had bright in the case that she would need to tell the Colonials information that she had yet to learn in their language. "I suppose that would be alright. How long was I asleep for?"

They began walking through the corridors. "About six hours."

Abigail had no idea what CIC, aside from the fact that it was not a brig. She smiled when she was led to a place that resembled a bridge of one of Earth's space-fairing vessels. Of the people that Abigail had met, she only saw Kara, Tigh, and the admiral. The three nodded to her as she approached. "You look like you got some rack time," Kara remarked.

"Yes, I got some rest, thank you," Abigail replied. "Would you mind telling me why it's called a 'rack' though? I think you're referring to the bed. On Earth, a rack used to be a torture device several hundred years ago. It was a table where they tried to stretch people."

Tigh snorted and then turned to Kara. "You sure we really wanna go to Earth?"

"They don't use those anymore," Abigail insisted.

Adama smirked at the odd turn the conversation had taken, then turned back to find Gaeta. "Mr. Gaeta, would you please look over the star charts with Dr. Felds here? I want to know how long the journey will take us."

"Yes, sir," the lieutenant replied. Electronic pad in hand, he motioned for Abigail to follow him.

"It should take about two months from here," Abigail mentioned.

Adama shook his head. "That's without the FTL drive."

The linguist nodded and followed Gaeta into the office off to the side. Tigh took a step toward Adama. "She's a character."

"In a way. We're a new culture to her and she's bound to make references that we just don't get," the admiral stated.

She and Gaeta returned an hour later to see that the president had joined the admiral in CIC, sitting in a chair. "Admiral Adama, Madame President, I had originally miscalculated how fast your fleet was already traveling. We should be in rage to contact Earth within the next half hour," Abigail explained.

"Does that mean we'll be in range of Earth shortly?" Roslin probed.

The linguist shook her head. "I'm afraid Lieutenant Gaeta and I are still working on that one. Earth has a network of satellites that transmit communication signals. We are entering the range of the satellites."

Roslin noticed Adama's subtle flinch at the mention of a 'network.' "Dr. Felds, does our computer system have to be networked to yours in order to use your satellites?" Roslin inquired.

Abigail shook her head. "No, all I need is a signal and the right frequency."

When they were in range, the admiral led the linguist to his office, both working together to modify the Colonial communication system for the Earth signal. On the small viewscreen of his office, an older man, probably in his late sixties, with a pencil-moustache, tan skin, and a bald spot on his quickly graying head appeared. Adama stepped out as the man began to speak in a language that felt extremely foreign to him.

"_Abigail! Is it really you? Chesterton sent out a message that there was an accident_," the man began.

The linguist nodded. "_Sir Camden, I assure you that I'm fine. The general was keeping three of the Colonials for experiments and I couldn't let that happen. I'm safe. I don't know when I'll be back, but I'm with the Colonials_."

Sir Camden leaned back in his chair. "_I'm so glad that you called. Chesterton implied that you'd been killed and I was about to issue you a death certificate and a personal apology to your family. I do apologize for placing you in such an awkward position_."

"_Oh don't do that! Actually I need you to speak with Chancellor Byron. He should meet with the Colonial leaders when we reach Earth_," she suggested.

His brow furrowed. "_I'll see what I can do. Will you be communicating again_?"

"_I should hope so_," she replied.

Sir Camden nodded. "_By the way, have you spoken to your husband yet_?"

"_I am speaking with him after I've finished with you_," she mentioned.

"_Good then. I wish you good luck and Godspeed_," he stated.

Abigail took a deep breath before contacting her husband. She verified the country and province codes before accessing his personal line. As his face came onto the screen, she watches his expression go from worry to complete shock. "_James, please don't panic. I'm alright."_

"_Chesterton said there was- I mean what are you- how_?" he stammered.

Seeing her husband so distraught brought tears to her eyes as she tried to smile for his sake. Her fingertips brushed the screen as if she could touch him, feeling only the tingle of static. "_Dear James, I love you. I am most assuredly fine. I'm with the Colonials. I don't know when we will reach Earth, but I'll see you soon enough_."

He smiled back, tears in his eyes as well. "_Oh Abbey, how do you get yourself into these messes_?"

"_I don't know, dear. It just happens. Have you said anything to Aurora yet_?" Abigail inquired.

James shook his head. "_I didn't know how to tell her. I'm more than relieved that now I won't have to. Abbey, come home. Come home and tell that scoundrel, Sir Camden, that you quit. Just because you're a talented linguist doesn't mean he has the right to turn you into a spy_!" her husband declared vehemently.

"_My darling, I miss you. I am coming home_," she expressed.

She rejoined the admiral and the president in CIC after finishing her conversation. Roslin stood, noticing that their guest was wiping her eyes. "Are you alright, Dr. Felds?"

The small woman nodded. "_Yes, thank you. It's just emotional when you haven't seen your husband_- I'm sorry. I forgot for a moment what language I was using. I'm fine, thank you. I've talked with my boss and I'm hoping that when we reach Earth, you both might meet with your chancellor. We used to be a planet of different nations with different leaders. Now we have a world government run by a chancellor," she explained.

"It could be interesting, meeting another government," Roslin said quietly to Adama. "However, I do believe that you and I have other plans."

Adama smiled politely, hoping that his own enjoyment of the moment did not mirror his fiancé's. Tactfully he glanced at his watch. "I do believe you're right, Madame President. Colonel Tigh, Captain Thrace, we have a meeting to attend. Lieutenant Dualla, would you please see Dr. Felds back to her quarters and help her if she should need anything?"

"Yes, sir," Dee responded with a smile.

"Helo, you have CIC," Adama added.

Helo nodded. "Yes, sir."

Lee and the priest were waiting for them in the admiral's quarters. At their arrival, Kara phoned Cottle. "I'll say that this will be the most high-profile, most clandestine wedding I've every performed," the priest commented. "And I intend to keep it that way."

The younger Adama walked over to the president. "Ma'am, before we begin, Tory left something in the head for you."

Roslin nodded, walking over to the bathroom. Hanging on the shower rod was something covered by a white bag. She reached up and grasped a hanger. Then she pulled back the bag and gasped. On the hanger was a white formal top and a golden lace veil. The note pinned to the bag read: "I couldn't find you a dress, but I hope that these will do. I borrowed them from a friend." It was simply sighed 'Tory.'

_She's really very efficient_, Roslin thought as she donned the top. It was a bodice-like fit with traps and a sweetheart neckline, along with beadwork shaped like flowers. At the same time, Adama had headed to his closet, looking for his dress grays. She could hear him moving around. As she lifted the veil, she realized that it would take more than just her to secure the thing. Wanting to uphold as many traditions as this sudden wedding would allow, an idea formed in her mind.

"Bill, could you ask Kara to come here please?" Roslin asked through the closed bathroom door.

"Sure," she heard him say.

Kara knocked a moment later. "Madame Prez?"

"Come in," Roslin responded. "And it's 'Laura' on a day like today."

The younger woman stared at the white top Roslin now wore over her cranberry skirt. "Wow, the 'Old Man' is going to think you look hot!"

Roslin giggled. "Let's just hope I can get this veil on so I don't look ridiculous standing with him."

Kara shook her head. "In case you haven't noticed, the way he looks at you, you could be wearing a bed sheet as a dress."

"Deities, I think he would notice that one," Roslin remarked as a blush crept upward from the neckline of the top, up to her forehead. Then she giggled again. "Oh no, now we've done it. I don't think I can stop."

The blonde woman tried to pin the veil in the right places, but Roslin was moving too much. "Just take a deep breath and think 'I'm not going to frak around, I'm going to get married. Then I can frak around as much as I please.'"

"That's… not… helping…," Roslin stated, still giggling.

Kara sighed and shook her head. "You need to hold still, or I can't do this. I suppose I could just ask the 'Old Man' to-"

"No, you will not," Roslin interjected, in control once again. "I'm going to do as many things right as I can here, and the groom is not going to see the bride before I'm standing there with him."

"In that case, you're ready," Kara informed her.

The two women stepped into the living room where Adama faced the priest. Lee stood at his side and Cottle walked Roslin over to him. Kara stood by her when Cottle took a seat next to Tigh. Adama turned his head and noticed a flash of golden material. "I don't know how you found that, but it looks great," he told her.

"I owe Tory for what she managed to find," Roslin stated. As was tradition, Adama slowly lifted the long veil over Roslin's head.

His eyes were suddenly glued to her borrowed top. She felt the blush creep up her neck again as he looked her over from toe to head, obviously appreciating what she had managed to come up with. She smirked, giving his dress grays the same look of appraisal. "Don't you look handsome," she remarked.

"Not half as good as you do, Laura. You look stunning," he conveyed.

The priest cleared his throat and both jerked their heads over to him, having forgotten that he was there. "Shall we begin?"

"By all means," Cottle stated. The remark earned him the 'Adama glare' followed by a grin from the admiral.

The priest took a white string. "Please hold hands," the priest instructed. Roslin flashed Adama a girlish smirk as they joined hands, interlacing fingers. Then the priest took the white string, looping it first around Adama's wrist, then Roslin's, and lastly tying their wrists together.

"This string represents the linear progression of the human lifespan. As you are joined now, may you also be joined in every aspect of your lives. May your love for each other grow, and may your lives prosper."

"So say we all," everyone responded.

"Do you, Admiral Will-"

"Hold off on the ranks please," Adama interjected.

The priest nodded. "Alright then. William Adama, do you take this woman's hand in marriage, through famine or harvest, in frailty or health, for as long as time permits?"

"I will," Adama's gravely voice replied with conviction.

The priest nodded and then turned to Roslin. "And do you, Laura Roslin, take this man's hand in marriage, through famine or harvest, in frailty or health, for as long as time permits?"

"I will," Roslin answered with certainty.

"Your lives are now one," the priest told them as he untied the string. "I now present to the witnesses, Mr. and Mrs. William Adama," the priest paused as the others in the room clapped. However, before he could say the final words, Adama leaned forward, capturing Roslin's lips with his in a gentle, yet passionate kiss that left little doubt regarding the love they shared.

"Most of the time I usually get to say, 'You may now kiss the bride,'" the priest remarked.

Adama pulled back and smirked at the priest. "I won't tell if you won't."

"So say we all," Cottle and Tigh both supplied.

"So say we all," Lee and Kara added.

Then the colonel held up a bottle of clear liquid. "Champagne's hard to find these days. I hope nobody minds, but I've got some of Tyrol's newest batch to share."

Roslin glanced over at Cottle. "Once glass, young lady," he allowed her.

Lee turned to the priest as he headed for the hatch. "Why don't you stay for a drink? Then it won't look too odd if you leave with one of us later."

The priest considered the idea for a moment and then nodded. "That sounds fine."

Adama moved to retrieve the glasses. "It's too bad that we can't just waste champagne glasses right now. It's tradition to break those after you've finished your drink for good luck."

"Not so fast, Bill," Cottle stated, reaching for a box that he had brought with him. He opened it and reached in, pulling out something that curved into what looked like an octopus tentacle, complete with dots that indicated suction cups. There was an opening at the top and a round pedestal shape on the bottom. "If you want something to break, feel free to use these."

Kara lifted one up, finding it to be surprisingly light. "Hey Doc, where'd you get these? They're the ugliest champagne glasses I've ever seen."

"I won them at a raffle years ago and I couldn't seem to get rid of them," Cottle answered, causing everyone to laugh.

After Tigh poured everyone drinks, he lifted his glass to toast. "To Mr. and Mrs. Adama, may they give this journey we're on some hope."

"May they spare some time for the rest of us when they're not in the middle of 'rack time,'" Kara added. Adama rubbed the bridge of his nose while Roslin glanced away and blushed.

"Starbuck, I really didn't need that image in my head," Lee protested.

"Neither did the rest of us," the priest mentioned.

The group chuckled and Kara decided to take pity on the priest. "Come on, you don't have to hang around any longer."

As the priest and Kara stood, Lee asked, "Kara, are you coming back for dinner?" She nodded, finishing off her drink. Then she threw the empty glass on the floor, which broke.

"I'll clean up the glass," Lee volunteered.

Later when the others had broken their glasses and the mess had been cleaned up, Tigh ordered dinner from the mess hall. Roslin removed the veil as dinner arrived and Kara returned not long after. While they ate, the others noticed that Roslin and Adama sat as close together as two people could without one sitting in the other's lap. As the evening wore on, his right hand lingered on the small of her back while her left hand reached over and held his.

Kara rolled her eyes. "Come on, guys. Apollo, I think it's time we left these two alone."

"And here I thought you'd want to give us a chaperone," Adama joked.

Cottle stood, picking up his box. "I've got better things to do, so don't look at me."

Tigh also rose, leaving what was left of Tyrol's moonshine on the coffee table. "I'll just leave this with the two of you."

Lee walked over to the newly married couple. "I've already heard far more than I wanted to. Congratulations. I'm going to leave before I learn anything else from Kara."

Roslin and Adama both chuckled. "I fully intend to keep our private lives just that, private," she told him.

They walked the others to the door and Cottle handed her a small brown envelope. "No matter what you do, don't forget to take care of yourself. If you need pain killers, use them."

She nodded. "Thank you, Jack."

When everyone had left, Roslin chuckled softly, having made a cup of tea and diluted the chamalla extract in it. "Our friends seem to have some interesting ideas about what we're going to be doing in their absence."

"We can't really blame them. I suppose I should've waited for the priest before kissing you," Adama assessed.

Turning to face him, she set the cup down and her hands slid up his chest, linking behind his neck. "Yes, but I'm glad you didn't."

They kissed soundly and broke only for air. "How are you feeling?" he asked her.

She grinned at his chivalry. "Truthfully I'm tired."

"And you have a meeting at 0700," he recalled, moving behind her.

As she felt his hands on her neck and shoulders, she leaned into his touch. "You don't mind?"

"I won't if you tell me what Kara said to you in the head that made you laugh," he persuaded.

"She was trying to help me stop laughing, but then she said 'Take a deep breath and think 'I'm not going to frak around, I'm going to get married. Then I can frak around as much as I please,'" Roslin explained.

Adama laughed heartily. "There really is only one Kara Thrace."

His hands stopped their ministrations and he wrapped his arms around her waist before kissing her neck. After a few minutes, she turned to face him, her lips colliding with his. Then she rested her forehead against his and spoke. "I need to change. The top is borrowed."

"Do you need to borrow a shirt to sleep in?" he offered.

She dealt him a sultry smirk. "I've got something you haven't seen before." Then she disappeared into the bathroom.

When she emerged later, he was sitting on his bed in boxers and his military issue tanks. The second his eyes took in her outfit, his gaze fixed itself upon the dip at the base of the V. She had managed to find a shapely V-neck magenta nightgown. It only required trading a necklace and a pair of earrings that she had worn once.

"I take it you approve?" she teased him, stepping closer to the bed.

He grabbed hold of her and pulled her into his lap. "You're making my resolve to restrict things to sleeping very difficult."

Threading her fingers through his hair, she pulled him close and kissed him passionately. "Bill, it's our wedding night. As I told Kara, I intend to uphold as many traditions as I can," she said after they separated to breathe.

Fingering one strap of her nightgown, he whispered "Okay" before kissing her deeply and pulling them both down on the bed.

(A/N: Several different cultures' marriage ceremonies were borrowed from for the wedding scene and modified: Celtic handfasting, Russian breaking of champagne glasses, Greek golden veil to name a few. The 'burning oca' on the Prometheus is their version of smoke from a hookah bar atmosphere, the smoke coming from a particular herb that I'm calling 'oca,' is pronounced with the long 'o' sound. If anyone has ever seen the cartoon movie "Alice in Wonderland," the caterpillar is smoking a hookah. The hookah is the pot-like device, not the contents, I think)

(My thanks to The Breeze, Leliana McKay, BossaNovaBaby24, Mariel3, murphycat, carolann, and Maud for reviewing :D)


	21. Mousetrap

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel. In my version of events, Baltar kept his beard.

Chapter 21: Mousetrap

_Roslin wandered into the kitchen to find Adama standing near the stove, frying something. She walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, looking past him. "Whatever you've got, it smells good."_

_"I finally managed to make something edible out of the root that Baltar thinks should be our main diet here," Adama remarked, moving the sizzling roots in the pan along with the onions, using his spatula._

_She glanced out of the kitchen window to see Digger rolling around in the flowerbed again. "I'll be right back."_

_Walking outside, she placed her hands on her hips and shook her head at the dog. "Honestly Digger, how am I ever supposed to grow vegetables when you keep rolling in them?"_

_The dog only jumped up and wagged his tail at her in response. Suddenly the dog stood on its hind legs. Then he grew taller as paws became hands and legs became arms as he morphed into a man. She gasped at who it was that she saw. "Billy," Roslin whispered._

"_Laura, you can't trust your eyes," he told her._

Roslin woke in the dark, trying to sit up, but finding it difficult to move. Then her hand brushed a shoulder that was not hers and she remembered where she was. Adama reached up and clicked the light switch. "It's alright, Laura. You're safe."

She brushed her lips with his, then slowly awareness of their undressed state began to sink in and she reached for the blanket to cover herself. "I had another dream," she began.

"Was it the Cylons again?" Adama asked after noticing that the clock read 0200, draping an arm over her shoulders and drawing her back to him.

"No. You were cooking something with the root from New Caprica and the dog turned into Billy. He told me not to trust my eyes," Roslin conveyed.

She spotted Digger laying on the floor by Adama's rack. "Billy looked after you. Maybe you associated the dog with him because the dog's been looking after you too," Adama surmised, turning off the light.

"I don't know," she whispered before cuddling up to him and trying to sleep again.

His alarm clock woke them at 0530. She blinked, looking at the clock with a groan. As he slid out of bed, she pulled the blanket over her head. He glanced back at her and chuckled. "As much as I'd rather let you stay there all day, I believe you have an early meeting."

"If they come looking for me, tell them that the Admiral's wife has other plans today," she remarked, her voice slightly muffled from the blanket.

He sat down on the bed, resting a hand on the shape of her back. "Then what would all yesterday's secrecy have been for? That poor priest had to endure Kara's innuendo-packed jokes for nothing.

She giggled and pulled part of the blanket back. "I suppose you have a point. One of these days, after things settle down, I would like to tell Zarek though. I'd love to see the look on his face."

"When you do, I'll find you a camera," Adama joked. Then he kissed her forehead. "Come on, you get the first shower. I'll order coffee."

"Alright. I think after my meeting, I'll visit our Cylon prisoner," Roslin mentioned.

"One of these days we'll need to find a job for her before your government finds out about her," he pointed out.

Roslin smirked. "So they're only 'my' government now?"

Adama chuckled. "The admiral is too busy worrying about the president to worry about the rest of the government."

Later as he heard the water running, a knock sounded at the hatch. He opened it to find a bleary-eyed Sonya holding a box in one hand while a cloth handbag was draped over the opposite shoulder. "I managed to acquire the chemicals that we'll need. You wanted a box of cornflakes as well, Admiral?"

He smiled politely. "Thank you."

Handing him the box, she left, moving as if sleepwalking. Adama closed the door and set the box of cornflakes on his desk. The coffee arrived a few minutes later and he had just returned from the kitchen with two mugs to see Roslin enter the room wearing her smart black business suit, ready for the day.

"The shower's open," she informed him with a warm smile.

Setting the mugs down on his desk beside the carafe, he took her right hand in his and kissed it. "Do you have time for breakfast?"

Smiling again, she stepped forward and kissed him lightly. "That depends on what we're having. If it's green…"

He poured her a mug of coffee and then showed her the cereal box. "Getani dropped it off this morning."

Her eyes widened when she realized what she was looking at. "How in the universe did she find it?"

"I didn't want to ask," he responded.

She smirked and shook her head. "In that case, maybe I don't want to know either."

While he showered, she poured herself a bowl of cornflakes, adding a bit of coffee due to their lack of milk. _I wonder what else she uses her Black Market connections for_, Roslin mused.

Sonya slinked into the lab, carrying the olive-green woven handbag. There was a clunk when she set it down on the table. Baltar eyed her suspiciously as she drifted over to a stool, her movements resembling a slot, a dying tiger, or a bear wandering out after hibernation.

"What the hell happened to you? You look like an insect after it's been stepped on," Baltar remarked.

As she glared at him, what would normally have been the whites of her eyes appeared to be pinkish-red. "It's a side effect from the oca smoke."

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm not familiar with oca."

She smirked and rested an elbow on the table, leaning on it. "I'm surprised at you, Dr. I-presume-to-know-everything. Oca is an herb that's all over the Black Market. However, if you're only down there for a day in the general trade area, you don't notice it much. The business I had to do required a chat with my boss. He smokes the stuff, so when I entered his office, I was breathing in quite a bit more of it than usual. Oca produces an effect that basically mellows the mood."

"It figures that the Black Market uses drugs to help business," Baltar commented, reaching for the bag.

"You get used to it if you're down there on a daily basis, but I haven't been there for a while and I inhaled far more than was wise. Today I feel like the walking dead. It should pass though," Sonya remarked.

As she rubber her temples, he took a risk and stepped closer to her. "Would you like me to order some coffee delivered?"

"Yes, that would be good." Then she pointed to the bag over on the table. "I brought the chemicals we need."

While he made a call to the mess hall, she removed three water bottle-like jars containing substances that were orange, pink, and yellow. "Will it really work?" he asked her.

"It had better," she paused and rubbed her neck. "Deities, sometimes I hate that frakkin' herb."

Baltar continued to watch her, pensively drumming his fingers on the counter. "You're… you're not just going to drop dead, are you? Because if you are, they'll all blame me."

Sonya held her head in her hands for a moment. "I told you it will pass." The coffee arrived and he set a mug down by her. "Thank you," she said, taking the mug in her hands, inhaling the scent before taking a sip of the steaming liquid.

"You're being civil again," Baltar pointed out.

"Only because I feel too crummy at the moment to yell at you," she replied. "I still hate you, but right now I hate oca more."

He decided that it was a good time to test Six's theory. "That, or perhaps you only pretend to hate me, but really you want to possess me."

She scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself. You are not the gods' gift to women. I'm not your type anyway," she remarked, sliding down from the stool. Mimicking Baltar's accent, she began an imitation. "Gaius Baltar only likes tall blonde women. Who cares if they're really Cylons as long as they're tall and blonde. No need to bother with short women who might actually be more interesting. No, I like the tall blondes with more body than brains."

"I can do better." He stood and cleared his throat, trying to alter his accent as she had. Though he sounded nothing like her, he did manage to sound different. "I'm short and bossy and I hate Baltar, because in reality I'm compensating for something. So what if I'm trying to be smarter than he is. Nobody takes me seriously, so I have to piss everyone off."

Sonya would have been irritated with him, but instead she was contemplating the critiques they had made of each other. "I think we're both morons here in one way or another. Here I am, pretending to be a scientist when I'm really a hacker among other less illustrious Black Market jobs, and here you are, pretending to be from Caprica when you're actually from Aerelon."

He looked over at her in surprise. 'You've read my book?"

She snorted. "No. I haven't had the desire to read garbage lately."

"Then how did know?" he probed, studying her.

"The way you grow your beard gives it away. Most people wouldn't catch it," she explained, setting her empty coffee mug on the counter.

He eyed her incredulously. "_Even when she's not herself, she's still got the upper hand_," his imaginary Six whispered in his ear. "I thought you were a Sagittarian. How do you know so much about people from Aerelon?"

Sonya crossed her arms. "Let's just say I've done a lot of traveling. Now, if I were you, I wouldn't move any closer."

"And why is that?" he dared to ask.

She took a step toward him, staring him down. "I'm not a doctor, but I know anatomically where your kidneys are. The Black Market would probably pay a lot for organ donations."

Her comment had startled him and he spilled coffee on his sleeve as he set the mug down. "Perhaps we should get to work then."

"Finally," she responded. "The only thing we're going to need now is a volunteer."

Six paced her cell in the brig, the loneliness beginning to bother her, despite the Baltar in her head periodically annoying her. "Why can't they trust me? Don't they understand that I want to help them?"

"_Because in their eyes, you'll always be a Cylon_," her mental Baltar stated.

She wheeled around immediately, hearing the door open. The president stepped into the room, supported by her aide. "Hello, Six."

"Hello. What can I do for you today, Laura?" Six inquired.

Roslin stepped away from Tory, folding her hands in front of her. "Is there anything else that you can remember about the Final Five or the Guardian?"

Six sighed. "I'm sorry, but I've told you all I know."

The phone rang. After answering it, he handed the phone to Roslin. "Excuse me a moment," she told Six. "Ah, Miss Getani, what is it? That's good to know. Thank you for your efforts. I hope it works." Handing the phone back to the guard, Roslin faced Six. "Our two experts are building a machine that can translate the sequences of one's and zero's that you claim are from the Guardian."

"I hope for your sakes that it means good news," Six remarked.

Roslin smiled. "Oh, it is. But they need a volunteer."

"_Oh how delightful. It's a chance to get out of this cell_," mental Baltar told Six.

Six stepped forward. "Are you asking me to be a volunteer?"

"Yes," the president responded.

"I'll do it," Six said without hesitation.

Then Roslin and Tory left the cell. "Madame President, I don't know if that was a good idea. What if she tries to escape?"

"Something tells me that she won't," Roslin answered. Suddenly a wave of vertigo hit her and she reached out to the wall to balance herself. Noting Tory's concern, she responded, "I'm alright. What's next on my schedule?"

"Madame President, how are you feeling?" Tory probed.

The swirling sensation had subsided enough for her to continue walking again. "I have to keep going as long as I can."

Tory shook her head. "Ma'am, if you suddenly pass out, the admiral will be very upset with me." Then the aide leaned closer and whispered, "You have more than yourself to think about, Mrs. Adama."

Roslin raised an eyebrow, noticing that aside from her security detail, no one else was in the hall. "What would you suggest then?"

"That you rest before your next meeting. You've got an hour before meeting the vice president," Tory recommended.

The older woman acquiesced. "Alright, I'll go. I think I should visit our guest first though."

Abigail's temporary guest quarters were on the way to the admiral's quarters anyway. Roslin knocked on the door. Abigail opened it, smiling politely. "Madame President, it's good to see you again."

"I wanted to see how you were doing," Roslin mentioned.

"I was hoping to use the satellite system to talk with my boss again," the other woman mentioned.

Roslin nodded. "That's something you should see the admiral about. He's in CIC."

Abigail looked for the marine outside her door and asked him to escort her to CIC. Roslin headed to Adama's quarters to lie down as Abigail and the marine walked through the halls. Abruptly the small woman turned a corner and bumped into something that said "Oof."

A balding man with beady eyes and bad teeth stared at her. "I'm so sorry, excuse me," Abigail stated.

"I'll let it go, this time. Say, you don't sound familiar. Which colony are you from?" the man asked.

Abigail raised an eyebrow. "Colony?"

The man rolled his eyes. "Yeah, as in the Twelve Colonies, like the rest of us. Does that ring a bell?"

She took a deep breath, trying to formulate an answer. _What was the place that the people who came to Solaris Station mentioned? I think I remember_. "I'm from Capricorn," she replied, hurrying past him with the marine in tow.

Shaking his head, the man headed over to the lab and stopped. He peeked in to find the woman he was looking for. Sonya turned to face the man by the door. "Arnie, what are you ding here? How did you find me?"

He shrugged. "Lucky guess." Then he spotted Baltar. "Hey, it's Dr. Let's-flip-a-coin-to-see-which-side-I'm-on-today."

"You sir, are not amusing," Baltar threw back. "Now if you will excuse us, we have actual work to be doing."

Arnie snorted, looking back to Sonya. "Are you gonna let him talk to you like that, Sonny? You look like crap by the way."

Baltar gulped as he could almost see a visible shift in attitude. Sonya glared at him, causing him to take a step back. "Look, I got us the chemicals. I came up with this project. The way I see it, I'm the one in charge here, not you. You're only here because they can't find a way to kill you that won't attract a lot of attention."

"_Relax, Gaius. Obviously she's showing off for that guy. Just sit back and see how this all plays out_," the Six in his head reminded him.

Sonya then turned back to Arnie. "What are you doing up here anyway?"

Arnie cracked his knuckles. "Nigel sent me here to find out the specifics on your project."

She shook her head. "I'm dealing with the top brass on this one. I can't just go telling the whole universe now, can I? Come on, Arnie."

The man shoved his hands into the pockets of his dingy jeans. "Fine. Just remind me what 'Capricorn' means."

Sonya raised an eyebrow and then looked to Baltar. He nodded and answered, "'Capricorn' is referring to the star configuration for which Caprica was named. It's rumored that when we reach Earth, we'll be able to see all twelve of the Colonial namesakes."

"I ran into some lady in the hall. When I asked her what colony she was from, she looked at me like I was crazy, and then she tells me 'Capricorn.' You meet so many whack-jobs outside of the Prometheus," Arnie remarked. Then he walked toward the door. "Since you can't tell me anything useful, I guess I'll be going."

As he exited, Sonya looked back at Baltar. "You know, all the work we've been doing, translating that electronic pad and now this project, do you think they've got more of a lead toward Earth than they've let on?"

"It wouldn't surprise me. The admiral had me looking at soil samples. I've also overheard something about a trip. Then yesterday a Raptor returned," Baltar mentioned.

"What if they've got somebody from Earth here? It is a really strange thing to say, that you're from 'Capricorn,'" Sonya suggested. As they began working again, she noticed how small their area suddenly seemed. "Do I have to draw a line down the table? You're making me claustrophobic." He rolled his eyes and stepped to the right, wondering if the others had indeed brought someone from Earth back with them. Neither of them heard the quick footsteps out in the hall from someone who had heard too much of their conversation.

Abigail entered CIC to find the admiral standing in the lower center of the room by the table with the model ships. He looked up as she neared the table. "Dr. Felds, what can we do for you today?"

"If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to talk to my boss again," she mentioned.

Adama nodded and motioned for her to follow him. Once the preliminary buttons were pushed and numbers were dialed, she waited to contact her boss. Adama left as the other man's face appeared on the screen. "_Sir Camden, how are you today_?" Abigail greeted him.

He smiled politely. "_Very well, thank you. How are these 'Colonials' treating you_?"

"_They are very kind. Both the president and the admiral have made sure that I have what I need and that I'm comfortable. Have you been able to speak with the chancellor_?" she inquired.

"_Yes. I can configure a link between yourself and his office if you would like_," Sir Camden suggested.

Abigail grinned brightly. "_That would be wonderful, thank you_."

A few moments later, the smiling image of a man with a coffee-complexion, short black mustache, and black hair combed back appeared. "_Dr. Baldwin, it is very good to see you again. General Chesterton reported that there had been an accident_." The chancellor was one of the few people who knew Abigail's real identity.

"_Chancellor Byron, thank you for making time for me. I am with the Colonials and they are treating me quite well. Soon their government leaders wish to speak with you. I do hope that Chesterton hasn't told you horrible nonsense about the Colonials_," she expressed.

Byron sighed and his brow furrowed. "_Actually he has. He blamed the Colonials for the accident that supposedly killed you. He's rounding up military support for his ideas too_."

Abigail frowned. "_You've got to stop him, sir. These people mean us no harm. They're only looking for a new home_."

The chancellor thought for a moment, running a finger through his moustache. "_I think that we might be able to nudge the public's opinion if I have a few members of the press present when I speak to the Colonial leaders_."

"_I agree_," Abigail responded.

"_I will do what I can here and_-" the ringing of a phone interrupted him. "_I hope everything goes well on your end. I'd like to discuss this more, but I'm needed elsewhere. Please, contact me tomorrow through Sir Camden. I might be able to speak with them then_."

"_I understand, sir. Thank you for your time_," she stated.

He nodded and smiled. "_And thank you, Dr. Baldwin, for your involvement in all of this_."

After the conversation ended, Abigail left the room to speak with the admiral. "Something has come up. May I have a word with you, Admiral Adama?"

"Of course," he responded, leading her aside behind the glass area.

She folded her hands in front of her and paced slightly. "Chesterton is rallying support against your fleet. I've talked to our chancellor and he will try to break up the rumors Chesterton is spreading. I've also asked him to talk with the Colonial leaders. He might be able to do this as early as tomorrow."

Adama nodded. "I'll inform the president. In the meantime, why don't you go back to working with Lieutenant Gaeta on converting your time estimate to our FTL drives?"

"That sounds fine, Admiral," she answered. They returned to the outer room and she walked over to the man, who was scanning the area for Cylons. The admiral explained that they should return to their earlier work and Gaeta agreed. As they began the conversions, Abigail's thoughts drifted back to the man whom she had bumped into. To her, he resembled a homeless man, not unlike the online pictures in the history book software she had used in school as a child.

Arnie, having returned to the _Prometheus_, entered the smoky office. The oca smoke did not cause his eyes to water nearly as much as it used to. In the dim light, Arnie knew that the other man in the room was facing him when he heard the squeak of the chair turn to face him. "Arnie, what have you learned for me?"

The other man glanced over his shoulder briefly, as if to make certain that the door was shut. "They've got someone from Earth onboard _Galactica_."

(My thanks to caramelapples, BossaNovaBaby24, sosayweall, Mariel3, Freelancer, murphybluecat, carolann, Ionel, KappaOmega, and Maud for reviewing :D)


	22. Calm before the storm

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.

Chapter 22: Calm before the storm

It had been almost an hour since Roslin had entered the quarters that she shared with Adama for a nap. Tory had returned to retrieve her for a meeting with the vice president. The aide stopped at the dark sleeping area. "Ma'am, it's almost time for your meeting with Zarek."

Roslin stirred and slowly sat up. "Deities, I hate long days like this."

The older woman stood and walked over to the bathroom to splash water on her face. "Madame President, Laura, perhaps I should just go in your place and tell him you're taking a sick day."

Sighing, Roslin shook her head. "I'm dying. Every day is a sick day."

Tory glanced down at the floor. Today, for whatever reason, had turned out not to be one of Roslin's good days and Tory was at a loss for what to do. "If you won't let me go in your place, then tell me how else I can help you."

Roslin gently placed a hand on Tory's shoulder. "I appreciate having you here, I really do. And I want to thank you for what you managed to find for the wedding on such short notice. You can help me by keeping up appearances. If you keep watching me with concern at every meeting, people are going to look for me to faint right in front of them. I need to seem fit for office as long as I can."

When they left the admiral's quarters, Tory walked next to Roslin, but did not physically support her. As they reached the boardroom, the feeling of vertigo returned and Roslin closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, Tory stood in front of her. "If you want to help me, please find me a pair of flats while I'm at this meeting."

"I'll do that, ma'am," Tory responded, leaving Roslin.

The vice president stood and smiled politely as the president entered. "Laura, I was wondering if you'd make time for me in your schedule."

She smirked as they took seats across from each other. "Of course I have you penciled in, Tom. Why wouldn't I?"

He fiddled with a pen in front of him. "I thought that maybe I'd be brushed off for the admiral," he teased. She shot him a glare over the top of her glasses. "Rumor has it that you've been spending a lot of time with him lately."

Calmly she folded her hands in front of her. "You shouldn't give credence to rumors, Tom."

"I think this is a rumor you might want to listen to. Someone saw you coming out of the admiral's quarters fairly early this morning," Zarek mentioned.

Roslin shook her head. "I know what you're suggesting, but if you remember, I had an early meeting with the Board of Education. I stopped by for coffee with the admiral and an update on the fleet."

"It might wash with the press, even the Quorum, but it doesn't wash with me," he added. "I'm just saying that no matter what's going on, you need to be careful. You know I don't want your job. I'm just making sure they don't turn around and give it to somebody else because of rumors."

She eyed him with scrutiny, hoping that the chain with Adama's ring on it was well-concealed beneath her blouse. "Let's move on to other issues then, shall we?"

"That would be fine," he replied. "What is going on with the Cylon in the brig? The press is getting nosy and if they find out about this, then anything you have with the admiral will seem small compared to a long-term Cylon prisoner."

"She volunteered for a few tests that we need to run. She claims that she wants to help humanity," Roslin stated.

"I take it these tests are confidential?" he inquired.

Roslin took a deep breath. "For the present, yes."

"I recommend that if you're not going to airlock her, you should give her some job where she's not seen much. She could hide on the_ Prometheus_," he suggested.

"I suppose it's an idea," Roslin acquiesced.

Zarek opened a slim blue file that had been sitting off to this right. "Now, I'd really like to be in the loop on some things, Laura. A Raptor left here a few days ago and went somewhere, with Captain Thrace, Mr. Adama, and Lieutenant Agathon onboard. It came back and from my understanding there was an extra passenger. What is going on here?"

Wide-eyed, Roslin paused before answering. "Your sources are incredible. I suppose I could tell you some of it, but this conversation does not leave this room. We've had contact with the people of Earth."

"You keep saying 'we,'" Zarek pointed out.

"The admiral and I," she clarified. "The Raptor was sent to a space station. At the moment, we are looking at precise coordinates for the location of Earth."

"You might want to tell that part to the Quorum tomorrow when they meet," Zarek commented. Then he leaned forward on the table. "What about the person they brought back with them in the Raptor?"

Roslin leaned on one elbow, resting her chin on her fist. "Didn't I say not to give credence to rumors, Tom?"

"I don't believe for a minute that it's a rumor," he countered.

"It's classified," she told him.

He sat back and smirked. "Now that, I'll buy."

The meeting ended after an update on the algae supplies and Roslin found Tory waiting outside of the room. "I found some flats. They're in the admiral's quarters," the younger woman whispered.

"Thank you, Tory. I'll see to the matter later," Roslin replied with a smile.

Roslin had an hour before a lunch meeting with the Leonese delegates and decided to visit CIC. Adama looked up as she entered and they exchanged smiles. Tory entered behind her. He reached for Roslin's hand and helped her down the stairs. "Madame President."

She gave him a short nod. "Admiral."

"What brings you by today?" he inquired.

"I wanted to know how Dr. Felds and Gaeta were doing with the time estimate for Earth," she explained quietly.

The two stood close to each other as they neared the table holding the model ships. "They're still working on the calculations," Adama remarked.

"Maybe they'll know by tonight. I have to meet the Leonese delegates for a lunch meeting. I just stopped by to see how things were going here," she whispered. He raised an eyebrow, causing her to add "And to see you too, of course."

The comment brought a smile to his face that he carefully schooled so that the rest of the crew did not become suspicious of the discussion he and the president were having. "There's something else you need to know. Tomorrow you and I will be speaking with the chancellor of Earth. We've got a situation with that general, Chesterton, is trying to rally support against us, thinking that we're the bad guys here."

She rubbed her eyes. "Frak. That's the last thing we need. Why can't anything ever be easy?"

"Dr. Felds is doing her best to straighten things out. I think we can trust her and if she trusts the chancellor, maybe we can actually fix this," Adama suggested.

The dizziness returned and she placed a hand on the table, closing her eyes. After a moment, she slowly looked back up, out at the viewscreen. She felt his hand on the small of her back and was about to move aside. But as she could feel his concerned gaze on her, she understood that he did not care if anyone else noticed. "Laura, are you alright?"

She faced him, seeing the worry in his blue eyes. "I'll be fine. Things have been… off today. That's all."

Sighing, he dropped both of his hands and drew them in front of him, remembering the need for discretion. "We'll talk later."

Straightening herself, she decided to change the subject. "Have we detected anything unusual out there lately?"

"Not yet, but I've got a Raptor keeping an eye out for anything suspicious," he mentioned.

Roslin glanced over in the direction of the admiral's office. "Dr. Felds will need something to do once she and Lieutenant Gaeta have a time estimate."

Adama thought for a moment. "Perhaps she'd like to know more about our culture."

"That sounds reasonable," Roslin responded.

They stood next to each other, watching the DRADIS and the viewscreen, in a comfortable silence. Though the room was not quiet, the routine of work around Roslin, the sense of order that seemed to radiate from the three men in charge of CIC, Adama, Tigh, and Helo, created a sense of peace that eased her mind for the moment. There was an odd sense of calm in the room, the calm before the storm. _It's as if we know that a tornado's about to blow through our lives, but we're all holding our breaths waiting for it_. She smiled briefly at the irony of her thoughts.

Adama noticed her expression and raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"It's calm in here. It won't be for long, but it's calm at the moment," she remarked.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "That's an interesting way of looking at it. I thought everyone looked busy."

"Organized," she corrected. "Everyone looks organized. Standing here is just a good place to order your thoughts."

As he smirked, it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. He moved closer to her. "Are your thoughts disorganized, Madame President?"

"I keep getting distracted," she said with a glint of mischief in her eyes.

Though the rest of the crew was blissfully unaware that their leaders were flirting, Tory and Tigh both noticed and glanced away to meet each other's stares. Both rolled their eyes and shook their heads.

Adama and Roslin were unaware of the exchange as they continued conversing. "Distractions can sneak up on you and disarm you before you know what happened," he said in his gravely voice.

Her lips quirked into a smirk. "And then discretion and decorum fly right out the window. Isn't that right, _Admiral_?"

He nodded soberly. "True. Though I'm wondering where your disorganized thoughts wander _to_ when you're distracted."

She was formulating her next witty remark when Tory interrupted. "Madame President, you have a meeting with the Leonese delegates."

Roslin turned to her aide. "Of course. I'll be right with you."

"Good day, Madame President," Adama stated.

"And to you, Admiral," she replied. Then she mouthed "I'll see you at home" to Adama before turning to leave the room with Tory, deciding to stop by Adama's quarters and change shoes before the next meeting.

Roslin spent most of the meeting nodding at the Leonese delegates, not hearing a word that they were saying, and thankful that Tory was taking notes and reiterating the main points to her. After meeting with three more groups of delegates, her focus was dwindling as she stood to bid the last group farewell, leaning heavily on the boardroom table.

After they had left, Tory caught her arm, helping her to regain her balance. "I really think you should pay a visit to Life Station."

"He's going to tell me what I already know. I just need to lie down again. It's been a long day," the president stated crisply.

The two women walked in silence for a while before Tory spoke again. "The admiral's going to insist that you see Dr. Cottle as well."

Roslin stopped walking. "You are to tell him nothing. This is my business. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," Tory replied flatly before they resumed their pace.

The aide left the older woman sleeping in the rack, hoping that Roslin could at least pull of some semblance of health by the time the admiral came home. Adama's shift was almost finished in CIC as he looked back to where Gaeta and Abigail had been working. He entered the office and the two looked over at him.

"Do you two have a time estimate yet?" the admiral inquired.

Gaeta spoke first. "We had to input some of the data into one of our systems. Because they aren't networked, we won't have the full estimate until tomorrow."

"I guess I should go back to my quarters," Abigail commented.

Adama folded his hands in front of him. "Actually I've got a library of books on our culture that you might find interesting. You're probably going to have time on your hands and I thought you might like something to do."

Abigail smiled politely. "Thank you, Admiral."

When his shift ended, she followed him to his quarters. Upon entering, Abigail spotted not only a pair of black heels off to the side by one end table, but also a pair of flats. The admiral only blinked in the direction of the shoes before lifting his gaze to scan the room. The living room was vacant, as was his sleeping area. Then he moved toward the bathroom and noticed the door closed.

He knocked on the door. "Madame President?"

"Yes, Bill?" she responded.

"I have Dr. Felds here. I'm going to loan her a few books so that she can compare our cultural history to hers," he explained.

"Alright." The president emerged from the bathroom shortly, looking composed, if slightly wrinkled, as if she had been resting before Abigail's arrival.

Roslin was shoeless, but Abigail noted that neither of these leaders seemed to notice, as though her moving through his quarters and leaving her belongings here and there was a normal occurrence. The president moved toward the bookcase to slide two hardcover books out of their places. As she stood, Abigail watched as a chain around her neck fell past the base of the V that the undone top two buttons had formed, an object at the bottom of the chain weighing it down.

"I hope these will be useful to you, Dr. Felds. I'd like to know what comparisons you draw. Call it a teacher's curiosity," Roslin requested.

"You were a teacher?" Abigail inquired.

Roslin smiled fondly. "I used to teach kindergarten, and then I taught multiple grades for a year between presidential terms. I definitely found it fulfilling."

"I have a daughter in second grade whom I can't wait to go home to when this is all over," Abigail mentioned. "I'll have so many things to tell her."

As Roslin folded her hands in her lap, Abigail realized what the object was, dangling at the base of the chain: it was a man's wedding ring. Everything she had seen began to make sense, the shoes, the president's appearance, the way she and the admiral communicate without words. _They are married_, Abigail decided. _I won't embarrass them by just blurting it out though_.

"Perhaps I should go back to my own quarters to read these," she suggested. The other two nodded and the marine walked her back to the room.

After she had left, Roslin sighed and closed her eyes. "At least she's a good guest who doesn't cause us trouble."

Adama smirked. "Indeed. She's one we don't have to keep in the brig." Then he spotted the chain. "I wonder if she saw that."

"Saw what?" Roslin inquired. Then she looked down and gasped. "I can't believe I didn't notice it slipping out. Deities, we have got to be more careful. I had a meeting with Zarek today."

The admiral's eyes narrowed. "How much does he know?"

"I had to tell him some of our progress toward Earth, just enough to let him know we're expecting a time estimate. Bill, someone saw me leave from your quarters early this morning. We need to be more careful," she mentioned.

Adama stood, heading toward the kitchen with intentions of making dinner. "And we will. I'll talk to him myself if I have to."

Roslin followed him. "That will confirm his suspicions even more."

The admiral looked for the jar of noodles again. "Maybe, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

They discussed other fleet matters, along with her boring meetings over dinner. As the conversation slowed, his gaze met hers. "I think you should see Jack in the morning."

"It's probably just a side affect of the chamalla," she grumbled, setting her empty plate down on the coffee table.

He set his plate down next to hers and reached for her hands. "I know you haven't had a good day. And neither of us had any illusions that things would be easy. Stop trying to fight everything on your own. I don't need protecting."

She blinked, holding tears at bay as she dislodged her hands from his. Then she scooted closer to him to loop her arms around his neck and hug him. "Thank you," she whispered. "I'm sorry for being such a grouch today."

"It's alright. Can I interest you in a neck rub?" he offered.

Grinning as she faced him, she replied, "Yes, that sounds wonderful."

She turned so that her back was to him. He parted her hair down the middle, leaving half to drape down each shoulder, out of his way. She sighed contently when she felt his warm hands kneading her neck and shoulders. "I should've asked you to do this when we talked in CIC."

He chuckled. "At the time, my office was occupied and I think it would've been a little embarrassing, at least to Gaeta."

She laughed also, thinking of what sort of horrified expression would cross the poor lieutenant's face. "You're right. And then there's Saul. He'd never let you hear the end of it."

Later she fell asleep as he held her, reveling in the comfort that they could give each other. The dreams were not the blissful vacation that she needed though.

_Roslin found herself wandering through the forest on New Caprica, looking for mushrooms with Digger. She had kneeled down to inspect a few, brushing strands of moss and ground cover aside with her fingers when she suddenly heard a few of the bushes rustling. She jumped to her feet and watched as the dog trotted over to the figure emerging into the clearing. The dog wagged his tail as Kara stepped out._

_The blonde woman petted the dog's head, then looked over at Roslin. "Come with me."_

_Nodding, she followed Kara, pushing leafy branches aside as they let the forest swallow them. "Where are we going this time?"_

_"The tomb of Artemis, I think. It doesn't make sense to me either," Kara replied._

_"Why 'Artemis?'" Roslin asked, stepping over a large tree root._

_Kara shrugged. "I think it might have something to do with the Thirteenth Colony hunting for a new home. I just feel like that's where we need to be going."_

_"I'll ask Dr. Felds about it tomorrow. Maybe she knows something," Roslin commented._

_They stopped in front of a cave. As they passed through the dark entryway, torch pairs on both sides of the walls suddenly lit up in a domino-like succession. "Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" Kara asked._

_"Because neither one of you will get this far," a familiar voice behind them remarked._

_Both quickly wheeled around to see Leoben. "Don't you have somebody else's head to frak around in?" Kara accused._

_"Not particularly. Laura, do you really think you'll see this? You trust the Guardian, but do you really believe that he has the ability to stop us? The Guardian is the judge, but you will lose, Laura Roslin. One way or another, you will lose," he told her._

_Digger barked at him and bit his leg, causing him to hobble out of the cave. "Come on. He won't follow us further," Kara suggested, tugging on Roslin's arm._

_"But what are we supposed to see here?" Roslin probed._

_Kara stopped in front of a picture etched into the wall. "I think we're here for this."_

_They stood in front of a standoff between two base ships, a Battlestar, and a small fleet of unfamiliar ships. Roslin glanced at Kara and then back to the wall. "All this has happened before. All this will happen again."_

(My thanks to carolann, Firstlady1408, kappaomega, and Freelancer for reviewing :D)


	23. Three weeks

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.

Chapter 23: Three Weeks

Roslin and Adama both woke as his alarm clock buzzed. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Did you sleep well?" he asked her.

"I was comfortable, unfortunately I had the most peculiar dream," she replied.

He sat up and moved to sit on one end of his rack while she sat on the other end. "You said 'peculiar.' Does that mean it wasn't a nightmare?"

"Kara and I started walking toward what she called the 'tomb of Artemis.' Then Leoben appeared, but Digger chased him off. Then we found ourselves in a cave with a carved picture of a standoff," Roslin explained.

Adama thought for a moment. "I don't recall hearing about the tomb of Artemis in anything we've got so far."

Roslin stood, heading toward the closet to locate one of her dress suits. "I haven't either. I was planning on asking Dr. Felds about it, possibly inviting Kara to come with me."

Adama agreed with the idea and took a shower while Roslin phoned Kara. "Madame Prez, what's up?" the younger woman asked with a yawn.

"Did you have a dream last night about the tomb of Artemis?" Roslin inquired.

Kara's voice suddenly sounded more alert. "Yes, ma'am. Do you know what it means?"

"I'm not certain, but I think our guest might know. Why don't you come by in an hour? Then you and I can ask her before my schedule kicks in for today," Roslin suggested.

"I think I can manage that," Kara replied.

Later they met outside of Abigail's temporary quarters. She opened the door, looking from one woman to the other curiously. "May I help you two?"

"We were wondering if the tomb of Artemis sounds familiar to you," Kara mentioned.

Abigail stepped back so that the other two women could enter. "No, not at the moment. Would you mind telling me more?" In case they used more words than she had learned, Abigail retrieved the microphone that she had brought with her.

Roslin glanced at Kara and then back to Abigail. "What we are about to tell you will sound confusing because it has to do with our culture's mythology," Roslin began. "It starts with Pythia and a dying leader…"

Half an hour later, Abigail sat with her hands folded in her lap, watching the other two women. "I still don't know what to make of all this. What do you want from me?" she asked calmly.

"You mentioned something about evidence of our people being found on your world. Do you happen to have any pictures?" Roslin inquired.

Abigail reached back for her bag. "Actually I might." She removed a small flat screen with buttons from her bag. "This is a holographic camera. It shows three-dimensional images."

After scrolling through what she had already recorded and pressing a sequence of buttons, the image of a cave appeared. "That's it! That's the tomb of Artemis!" Kara exclaimed.

Abigail showed them a few more pictures, stopping at one with a pictorial etching. "My husband found this and isn't sure what to make of it."

"I believe that is the drawing that Captain Thrace and I have seen," Roslin explained.

"But what does it all mean?" Abigail asked.

"I don't know yet," Roslin revealed.

Pausing to look at her watch, Abigail spoke again. "It's almost time for me to try contacting the chancellor."

Roslin stood, followed by Kara and then Abigail. "By all means," the president stated, heading for the door.

In CIC, the three women met the admiral and Abigail explained the need to contact the chancellor. Kara remained on deck while Abigail, Adama, and Roslin walked toward his office. A few minutes later, Abigail had dialed Chancellor Byron's office and was waiting for a reply. The man's face appeared on the screen, smiling at her.

"_Dr. Baldwin, it's good to see you again_," he stated.

"_Chancellor Byron, I was wondering if you could spare a moment for the Colonial leaders_," Abigail reminded.

"_Of course. Did you bring a translation microphone with you_?" he inquired.

She nodded. "_I've already set it up_." Then she motioned for Adama and Roslin to step over so that they stood in Chancellor Byron's view.

"_Allow me to introduce President Roslin and Admiral Adama, the civilian and military leaders of the Colonial fleet_," Abigail began.

Roslin and Adama smiled politely at the other man. "From the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, we are delighted to make your acquaintance," Roslin stated.

Byron gave a formal nod. "_Madame President, Admiral, you are both quite welcome. From what I understand, you believe that some of your people landed on Earth at one time_?"

"The lost Thirteenth Tribe," Adama supplied. "We've been looking for them, and for a place of refuge away from our enemies."

The man on the screen folded his hands, looking between the other two leaders. "_I've only heard bits and pieces regarding these 'enemies.' Would you please explain them bette_r?"

"They were originally machines, but now they look like we do, and they are bent on destroying us. There are two factions at the moment though, or so we've been informed, one on our side and one that isn't," Adama clarified.

"We mean no harm to your people. We only want a new place to live," Roslin added.

Sitting back in his chair, Byron looked over at Abigail. "_And what do you say, Dr. Baldwin? You've been with these people, what is your opinion_?"

"_I believe them. The organic cyborgs that are chasing these people are the enemies_," Abigail commented.

Byron glanced from one leader to the other. "_I trust your sincerity. Chesterton is jumping to conclusions. I will try my best to amend what I can on my end. However, your entire group will have to stop at Saturn Station for physicals_."

"Saturn Station is in Earth's solar system," Abigail explained.

"Chancellor Byron, there are over thirty thousand of us. Could we conduct the physicals within our own fleet and send you the results?" Roslin asked.

"_I'm afraid that the data would take longer to translate than the procedures would. Saturn Station is a medical research facility with numerous physicians. The process may still take a while, but it is necessary to be certain that you don't bring any viruses down to our planet_," the chancellor told them.

"Are you looking for anything in particular?" Adama inquired.

"_We'll have to screen you for a blood virus before you reach the surface of our planet. Our population used to be around 8 billion, but then the virus appeared and we are now at 6.5 billion. The virus attacked those without the RhD antigen in their blood. We managed to figure out the cause and stop it eventually, but by then the death toll was astronomical_," Chancellor Byron recalled.

Adama turned to Roslin, whispering over his shoulder, "Do you know what talking about?"

"Don't you remember your high school biology, Bill? Blood types have antigens on them that make them positive or negative. I think we called them Eskie antigens, after the doctor from Picon who discovered them," she reminded.

The admiral's eyes widened and he faced her again. "If it attacks blood without antigens, the Cylons might be susceptible to it. We already know what if they come in direct contact with objects from Earth, they get sick."

Roslin glanced at Abigail. "But Saul-"

"Saul hasn't been in direct contact with her. And for all we know, the people might have to be carriers first," Adama whispered.

The leaders turned back to the screen. "You've given us some interesting points to consider, Chancellor Byron," Roslin told him.

"_As have you both, Madame President, Admiral Adama. It was a pleasure meeting you both and I look forward to speaking with you again in person. For now I have a cabinet meeting in fifteen minutes, so I must bid you farewell_," he ended.

Adama, Roslin, and Abigail left, heading back to CIC. Tigh looked over at the admiral. "We just got a message from that Raptor you sent out," he mentioned. Then he turned toward Dee. "Replay it."

"This is Racetrack to _Galactica_. The Cylons are following us. I repeat, the Cylons are following us."

The president watched as the admiral's right hand clenched in a silent fist. His worst fears had been confirmed in his mind. She gently placed a hand on his forearm. "Bill, you are not responsible for this," she whispered.

"They've got us in a mousetrap and they'll keep chasing us until they have what they want," he grumbled quietly.

"We are not going to let them win," she remarked with fortitude.

"Then there's got to be a way to out-maneuver them. I'm going to see if we can jump around them," he stated, stepping away and informing Gaeta, Abigail, and Kara of a meeting that he was planning later in the day for new strategies.

"The Raptor is hailing us again," Dee informed the admiral.

He gave a nod and the transmission was heard. "Racetrack to _Galactica_, we've got data. Requesting permission to head back."

"This is Galactica Actual. Permission granted," Adama told them. Then he turned back to Roslin. "What else is on your schedule for today?"

"Baltar and Getani wanted to test their project. We need to bring the Six with us," Roslin mentioned.

"Right. I need to find those doodles as well," he responded. Before he and the president left, the admiral suggested that Abigail and Gaeta reevaluate their time estimate for the meeting later.

At the lab, Sonya and Baltar waited for the others to arrive. "Are you certain that this is really going to work?" he asked her.

She shrugged. "That's why we're experimenting, isn't it? As soon as this crap is over, I can go back to my life and get out of here, so I'm hoping that it works."

"Lets just we don't accidentally blow a hole in the ship and get sucked out into space," he retorted.

A moment later, Adama entered with Six and Roslin. Baltar looked at her with surprise. "They picked you to do this?" he asked with worry.

"It's alright, Gaius. I volunteered," she informed him.

"But- but we don't know exactly what will happen," he mentioned.

She smiled and nodded. "I still volunteered for this, hoping to earn their trust."

Sonya rolled her eyes. "Could we hurry this along please? I'm sure the admiral and the president have no desire to watch a soap opera before noon."

"Don't you have any compassion at all? I haven't seen her since before the trial!" Baltar retaliated.

"We can sort this out later, Gaius," Six stated.

Roslin stepped up. "Would you please tell us how this," she gestured toward he apparatus "works?"

Sonya nodded. "Our 'volunteer' places her hand in this metal box here. The chemicals in it charge the ion particles and it should react with the Cylon like a battery. As you can see here," she pointed to the wires protruding from the box, leading to a computer terminal with a monitor and a keyboard, " the wires go back to the main unit and in theory, the semi-permeable nature of the Cylon skin in addition to the nervous system, should allow us to access the programming and test your binary codes."

"In theory," Baltar muttered, to which he received a glare from Sonya.

Adama handed her the five codes in order as Six placed her hand in the liquid. As the computer booted, Six twitched, as if she had been shocked by static electricity. Sonya noticed that one the computer's menu screen, the Cylon appeared as another computer with the title 'MODEL SIX.' Sonya clicked on the icon and a screen came up with the blinking vertical marker to indicate that she should input the codes.

She typed in the first code and the words 'Master code confirmed' flashed across the system. Six shivered. "Six?" Baltar called. "Caprica? Are you alright?"

He moved to look at the Cylon's face. The eyes stared out at nothing and she said, "Master code confirmed."

"What's wrong with her?" Baltar fretted.

Sonya sighed. "I think that when the programming is accessed, something shuts down their emotions and higher neurological functions, so that they are unaware of it."

"That's probably a fair assessment," Baltar responded.

Then Sonya typed in the next code. The word 'Deprogramming' appeared on the screen, along with two blinking boxes, one that read 'yes' and the other 'no.' "Go ahead and click 'yes,'" Roslin instructed. Sonya nodded and followed the order.

The next phrase to pop up after the next code read 'Resurrection disabled.' "Interesting," Roslin commented.

"I think we want this one disabled. It'll make her as mortal as the rest of us," Sonya recommended, selecting 'yes.'

Baltar glared at her. "Just because you have no respect for her, it does not mean that you have a right to take away how her people reproduce."

"I can put it back," Sonya replied.

"Let's just move on, shall we?" Roslin pushed. "We've got two more codes to test."

The other woman nodded and imputed the last code. "That's strange. Nothing came up on the screen this time, only the 'yes' or 'no' boxes."

"Why don't you just be a barbarian again and click 'yes,'" Baltar spat.

"Well, now that we've taken our gloves of…" Sonya muttered. She selected 'yes' and Six stopped breathing.

The screen began to pulse red, with the phrase 'Self-destruct sequence activated' stamped on the screen next to a timer counting down from thirty seconds. Sonya's eyes widened as she stared at it in astonishment. "Oh frak."

Adama and Roslin watched the scene in confusion. Baltar rushed over to Six and tried to hold her upright. "Fix this, dammit! Get off your frakkin' high horse and fix this now!" he demanded.

With ten seconds left, Sonya decided to try the 'Deprogramming' code again, hoping to stop the self-destruct sequence. Another message flashed across the screen as she sat back: 'Sequence aborted.'

Six had gone limp in Baltar's arms. "She's breathing again, but she's unconscious," he stated.

"We'd better get her to Life Station," Adama suggested.

They rushed her to Life Station, the four of them standing in the waiting area while Cottle examined her. Baltar kept shooting daggers toward Sonya, not saying a word. She crossed her arms and sat in one of the chairs. "Quit staring at me like I'm a one of Hades' minions. It wasn't like a meant to do that."

"Was that some contorted form of an apology?" Baltar snapped.

Sonya sighed heavily, folding her hands in her lap and sitting forward slightly. "I never meant for that to happen. Just because I hate you doesn't mean I was planning on dragging anyone else into it."

He scoffed. "Are you telling me that you want revenge on me with justice now?"

"Revenge is only supposed to be between two people. When others get involved, you either get a body count, or it just gets too complicated. You know that I didn't know any more about what that code was than you did," Sonya explained.

"Are you actually trying to comfort me with your misguided sense of logic, or are you just trying to absolve your guilt?" he seethed, his anger overshadowing his usual fear of her.

"I wanted to absolve my guilt, since you asked. You probably think I'm some criminal who's been trying to stab you in the back and used the blonde to do it," she hypothesized.

"You don't give a flying frak about what I think. You thought nothing of reminding me that Caprica is a machine, and now you're making amends?" he spat.

Sonya stood and walked over to him, hands on her hips. "You want me to say it? Fine then. I'm sorry. I never meant for her to be hurt. I had no idea that the code would do that, and I'm sorry. I still hate your guts, but no one else needs to be hurt because of it."

"_I do believe you've made a breakthrough, Gaius_," the Six in his head mentioned.

"Finally- I mean, it seems that you're not entirely the demonic harpy that I thought you were," he mentioned.

"I suppose I deserved that," she rationalized.

Cottle entered the area a moment later. "She's alive, but in a coma. We won't know the extent of the damage until she wakes up, if she wakes up."

Baltar sank down in one of the plastic chairs, his eyes fixed on the floor. Sonya moved toward Cottle. "I'm heading back to the lab. I think he," she pointed to Baltar, "might be staying for a while."

The doctor sighed. "I suppose he can stay as long as he's quiet." Then Cottle spotted Roslin. "Young lady, you and I need to talk, but I'm a bit backed up with patients. If you wouldn't mind waiting a minute..."

Roslin waved a hand dismissively. "I came by for a checkup anyway."

Sonya left while Cottle turned back to another patient. Adama and Roslin stepped over to a quieter end of the room. "Why did the Hybrid give you a code to kill off the Cylons?" Roslin whispered.

"How should I know? We've still got one that we don't know about either. What do the codes have to do with everything else though?" Adama inquired.

"If you're the Guardian and you've been appointed to decide the fate of the Cylons, then you really can act as their judge," she pointed out.

He shook his head. "I don't like it. People shouldn't have power like this."

"You can save humanity and debate ethics later," Roslin suggested.

"I suppose this will just have to be a bridge we cross eventually," he responded. Then he glanced at his watch. "I need to head back to CIC."

Roslin lightly touched his forearm. "I have a meeting later with you and Zarek, as well as Saul. I'll see you then."

Adama smiled warmly and then looked around to make sure that no one was watching before he kissed her cheek. He left and Cottle emerged from behind a curtain, as if they had switched places. "What seems to be the problem?" Cottle asked her.

She fiddled with her hands as they walked toward his office. "I've been dizzy and tired lately, more than usual."

"I was afraid of that, but it's to be expected," Cottle commented.

He closed the door to his office and she noticed that for once he had no cigarette in sight. "I think I know what this is about," she remarked.

"Sit down, Laura," he stated, perching himself on the edge of his desk. She sat in one of the office chairs and he continued. "First of all, if you feel like you need to rest, go rest. Secondly, I see you're wearing flats. That's good. Heels will only tax your body more."

Roslin crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. "Tell me."

"I've got that time estimate you wanted," he said, facing her.

She took a deep breath. "Not 'wanted,' 'requested.' I requested a time estimate," she corrected.

It was the middle of the afternoon when Roslin reached the boardroom for the meeting. Being the first person to arrive, she was relieved to find it empty. She called the mess hall for four glasses of water and then sat in one of the gray plastic chairs, sighing heavily. As soon as she heard the door, she straightened up and pretended to be looking through the reports in her hand to keep her mind on task instead of what the doctor had told her. Zarek arrived first, followed by Tigh, and then Adama.

"Gentlemen," Roslin greeted.

"Madame President," they answered synonymously.

She took a gulp of water. "Let's cut straight to what needs to be said so I can tell eleven delegates how to proceed from here. How close are the Cylons?"

"Looks like we've got four, maybe five days," Tigh responded.

"The problem isn't how long; it's about stopping them before they reach Earth," Adama pointed out.

Roslin looked at each of the men. "I hope someone has a plan then."

"We need to spread out into smaller groups and jump to at least three different locations to regroup later. Much as I don't like splitting up the fleet, it'll confuse the Cylons and hopefully buy us enough time to find Earth," the admiral suggested.

She raised an eyebrow. "Do we know which faction of Cylons is out there?"

"No, and from what Dr. Felds has told us, we won't be getting a warm reception at Earth either unless the chancellor can convince Chesterton otherwise," Adama mentioned.

Zarek looked from the president to the admiral. "And I thought I knew what was going on. The Quorum will want to know all of this, as well as who the hell Chesterton is and why we have a problem."

After the discussion of a general strategy, the Quorum members trickled into the room, Lee among them. He helped Roslin and Adama as they attempted to explain the situation with Earth and their strategy of moving the fleet around. It was decided that in the other two groups, since there were not three Battlestars, certain ships would be designated to hold a number of Vipers for protection. Also, one advantage of having Abigail show them the communication satellite system was that the Colonial fleet could use it to communicate back and forth while separated because all of the jumps would be in range of it.

There was one bit of information through that some of the representatives shifted impatiently in their seats to learn. "How long until we reach Earth, Admiral?" the Aquarian representative asked.

"Three weeks," he replied. The others sat back in their seats to digest the information, relaxing at finally having a time estimate.

At hearing 'three weeks,' Roslin's grip on her glass loosened and the admiral watched it slide through her fingers. Using reflexes he had almost forgotten he had, he caught the glass before it hit the deck. As he put it back on the table, his gaze met Roslin's. She had the wall up, but he could see through it just enough to see that she was deeply upset about something.

Absently he glanced at his watch. She blinked and realized what he was trying to do. Then she turned back to the others. "I'm sorry to cut this meeting short, but the admiral and I have another meeting we're needed at."

Zarek looked over at her and thought she seemed tired. "Madame President, I believe I can finish this meeting."

She smiled appreciatively. "That would be fine. Thank you, Mr. Zarek."

The president and the admiral quietly left the room, but Lee followed them. "Dad, Laura, what's going on?"

Roslin took a deep breath and licked her lips to say something, but she could only stare at the younger man. He looked to his father for an answer, but the older man's gaze only reflected concern. "I'll see you're not disturbed," Lee informed them.

She touched his face and gave him a sad smile. "Thank you, Captain Apollo."

Adama and Roslin then proceeded to his quarters without a word. When they reached his quarters, she simply sat on one end of the couch, folding her hands in her lap. He sat down next to her, unsure as to how to proceed. After a while he placed his hand on top of hers. "Laura."

She slowly looked over at him. The words were on her lips, but looking in his eyes, she could not bring herself to say them. Instead she stood, removing her jacket and shoes before walking over to his desk where a pitcher of water sat. "I can get you Ambrosia or tea if you're tired of water," he offered.

"Tea please," she answered.

He disappeared into the kitchen. When he emerged with two teacups, he found her seated on the couch again. She accepted the cup with a smile, but instead of drinking it, she held it for a moment. He watched her with concern as he sipped his own tea, noticing that her eyes looked moist. Then tears slid down her cheeks and she made no attempt to block them.

"Three weeks, Bill," she said, setting her full teacup on the coffee table. "He said I had three weeks."

_Three weeks. Laura's not going to see Earth_. That thought was a punch in the stomach. His cup followed hers and he reached for her hands. "And nothing can be done?"

She shook her head. "It doesn't look good."

He pulled her into a hug and let her tears drench his shoulder as her control slipped and she gave into the urge to sob. His fell onto her hair and back. "You can't give up," he tried to persuade her. He held her close until she stopped shaking.

The ache of loss had become too great as he slid a hand under her chin, meeting her eyes. He kissed the tears from her cheeks, then proceeded to kiss her neck. Her breath hitched and a small moan escaped. He pulled back when she placed a hand on his chest, thinking that she was putting an end to it. Instead she kissed him passionately, fiddling with the buttons of his uniform jacket, freeing them one by one. Her blouse slipped off as he gently undid the buttons. His hands rested against the skin of her back as he pulled her closer to him, wanting to hold her and not let go.

"Bill," she breathed, "help me forget. Make me forget the promises that I can't keep. Help me forget that we're not-"

He could not let her finish and kissed her deeply. When his forehead rested against hers, he spoke again. "I will not give up. We will find a way, that is something I promise. You are not allowed to give up hope."

She stared at him for a moment, pain still in her eyes. She could see the fortitude and determination in his. He would be her strength when she had none left, and that thought alone warmed her heart. Then she smirked, recalling what he had just said. "I'm 'not allowed' am I?"

Seeing her smirk, he smiled back before trailing kisses along her jaw line. "Nope. You're staying right here. You'll just have to tell Hades and Thanatos to frak off and stop bothering you."

Sliding her hands under his tanks, she yanked them off. "Then why don't you show me what I _am_ allowed to do?" she requested, lightly tracing his scars.

"You're allowed to do that," he stated. Then he kissed her languidly before picking her up. "And I'm allowed to do this."

He set her down on the rack and obliged her request. They succumbed to sleep much later, emotionally as well as physically entangled with each other, skin to skin, heart to heart.

(My thanks to Mariel3, Ceridwyn2, caramelapples, Maud, carolann, Ionel, and kappaomega for reviewing :D)


	24. MIA

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.

Chapter 24: MIA

Adama woke a few minutes before his alarm would have gone off. He reached up to turn it off in order to let Roslin sleep longer. She was curled up against him, her breathing even as her hair splayed over her back and onto his chest. He carefully extricate himself, tucking her back in has he left the bed. After showering and dressing for the day, he laid one of her dress suits over a chair for her. He was about to order coffee and breakfast at 0600 when he heard a knock at his door.

He opened it to Tory. She stood outside with a clip board and briefcase. "I need to brief the president on her schedule. Is she here?"

Folding his hands in front of him, answered her calmly. "The president is indisposed at the moment. Why don't you come back in an hour? I'll make sure she's ready for work."

Tory tried to step past him into the room. "But sir, she has an important meeting with-"

His arm blocked her entrance. He was through with the politics, the games, the sneaking around for the sake of gossip. "I don't really care at the moment. Yesterday she found out that she's only got three weeks to live. You are going to give her this morning off. Is that understood?"

"Oh," the aide paused, her expression crestfallen. For a moment, Adama wondered if she might cry. "I understand, sir. Have her call me when she's ready."

"Thank you, Tory," he responded before closing the hatch. The he made his way back to the phone and ordered breakfast.

Waiting for breakfast to arrive, he glanced back at the sleeping area and noticed Roslin stirring. He walked back to sit on the bed, stroking her hair. She rolled over to face him and smiled. "Morning, Bill."

He leaned down to kiss her gently. "Good morning, Laura."

Yawning, she pulled the blanket around herself and sat up. "You let me sleep in again?"

"I didn't see any harm," he mentioned. "By the way, Tory came by at 0600, but I sent her away. She said you could call her when you're ready to start your day."

Roslin crosser her arms, still keeping the sheet wrapped around her. "That doesn't sound like her. Did you intimidate her again?"

"I don't know what you mean by 'again.' She just pushes you too hard sometimes," Adama explained.

"What can I say? The Office of the President owns my life," Roslin commented with a shrug.

He grinned mischievously. "But you're mine 'till 0700."

She smirked, one hand resting against his chest. "Oh? Feeling possessive, are you?"

"You have no idea," he remarked, covering one of his hands with his while the other pulled her closer. Then he trailed kisses down her jaw line.

A soft moan slipped out. "Then tell me, sir, what is my agenda this morning?"

He kissed her affectionately before moving back to answer. "Your suit's set out for you and by the time you get out of the shower, breakfast will be here. After breakfast, you're free to lounge around here for as long as you like."

She sighed, watching him stand. "I guess you have your shift to slip off to then."

"Unfortunately. We're probably in for another long day," he stated, brushing her cheek with his hand.

A knock at the door caught their attention. While he left the sleeping area to answer it, she stood and found a towel in the linen closet, wrapping it around her securely. "Breakfast is here," told her, returning to the rack to look for his glasses.

"They're on the bathroom counter," she told him.

He glanced over his shoulder and spotted them. "Thanks."

"Not so fast," she stated, grabbing part of his uniform top. "Why don't you join me?"

His brow furrowed. "Laura, there isn't-"

"What? There isn't enough time? If I can be yours until 0700, then it goes both ways. Call Saul and tell him you'll be a little late," she suggested, slowly dragging him toward the bathroom, the chain with his ring on it very visible against her skin.

"I've already had my show-" she cut him off, capturing his lips with hers in a deep kiss.

"So?" she asked when they pulled back to breathe, running one of her hands through his hair.

He smirked. "Madame President, I'm surprised at you, wasting water."

Her other hand fingered the buttons of his uniform top. "I'm sure there was a day somewhere over the last couple of years during which you missed getting your daily shower."

Chuckling softly, he asked, "So I'm not wasting water, just making up for a missed shower?"

"Exactly," she responded, holding the phone up to him. "Now you can call him or I will. Either way, you're going to be a little late today."

He laughed and shook his head. "Since he's going to give me hell for this anyway, why don't you call him?"

She dealt him a sultry grin. "Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Anything you say, sir." Then she dialed the colonel.

Tigh had just rolled out of bed when the phone rang. He grunted and blinked his eye, then put his hands out in front of him to find it, his vision still blurry from sleep. "Tigh."

"Hello, Colonel," a familiar female voice said.

_Why is she calling? I thought she'd moved in with the 'Old Man' by now. Did she go back to Colonial One?_ "Madame President, it's early. Shouldn't you be calling Bill?" he commented.

Tigh heard a sensuous chuckle. "I'm just calling to tell you that the Admiral will be a little late coming to work this morning," she mentioned.

The fog of sleep cleared from his mind as he asked, "Any particular reason why?"

"No. He's just going to be busy for a while," she stated.

Tigh smirked. "Tell him I'll take the morning reports and give them to him later." He hung up the phone, grinning and shaking his head.

Abigail was unaware of the schedule change and when no one came to visit her, she exited her quarters and decided to find CIC herself. The marine had arrived later after accidentally staying longer than he meant to in the mess hall in a line for breakfast. Alone, Abigail wandered down a few corridors, sighing at how they all looked the same.

A few people in uniform passed by, not noticing her as they headed off to start their day. She had lost track of which corridors she had walked down as she found herself staring at a ladder. Moving past it, she thought that she heard footsteps behind her. Looking back, she only saw a few people moving in the opposite direction.

She kept walking, but was unable to shake the shiver of unease from her. Then she heard the shoes on the deck floor again, the pace matching hers. She turned sharply, but saw nothing again. Stepping into another corridor, she tried to backtrack and head the other direction, planning on losing the person who could be following her. Instead she bumped into the same balding man with bad teeth that she had found before.

"Excuse me, but could you please tell me how to get to CIC?" she asked politely.

"Now why would you be heading there?" he inquired.

Something in his tone caused her to take two steps backward. "I need to see the admiral."

One hand was behind his back. "Well, unfortunately you'll be unavoidably detained," he told her, stepping closer.

She turned and tried to run down the hall, but he was quicker. A white cloth was suddenly pressed to her nose and mouth. A sickly sweet odor came through her senses before she felt her eyelids grow heavy and the world around her go black.

Adama left his quarters at 0730. Roslin decided to see if Abigail was awake before calling Tory. The marine stood at the door, unaware that anything was wrong. "Is she awake yet?" Roslin asked.

"I haven't heard anything from her," the marine revealed.

Roslin knocked on the hatch. "Dr. Felds? Dr. Felds, are you up? Abigail?"

Not receiving an answer, Roslin decided to open the door. Finding it unlocked, she entered the room, only to discover that Abigail was not there. "Where is she?" the president asked the marine.

He shrugged. "I was late coming here because I got stuck in the mess hall."

"Then we have a problem," she remarked, heading to CIC.

When Adama had entered CIC that morning, Tigh had smirked at him. He raised an eyebrow. "Is there a problem, Colonel?"

The XO shook his head. "No, sir." As Adama stood next to him at the table, Tigh added, "Late night?"

Adama cleared his throat. "You're in dangerous territory, Saul."

Tigh chuckled quietly. "Are you planning on being late tomorrow too?"

The admiral glared at him. "I believe you've overstepped the line."

"Don't be such a wet blanket. I'll cover for you if you're gonna be late, but you should know that it's dead obvious that you just walked out of the shower before coming here. Your hair's still wet," Tigh observed.

Adama sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, muttering "Good point."

A moment later, Roslin and her detail entered the room. She walked directly over to Adama, not noticing Tigh's smirk. "Admiral, we have a problem."

"What is it?" he asked, thinking first that it would be about her health.

"Dr. Felds is missing," she stated plainly, her expression purely businesslike.

Adama looked past her to the marines. "How the hell did that happen?"

"Her marine got stuck in the mess hall and she apparently went wandering off by herself. I told some of my security detail, as well as a few marines, to search the deck for her," the president explained.

He nodded. "Good idea. I doubt she would have gone far. She was probably looking for CIC."

While they waited for word from the marines, Roslin called Tory, who had been sorting through files in the boardroom. "Madame President, I wasn't expecting to hear from you yet."

"I need to know what sorts of things are on my agenda for today," Roslin requested.

"The vice president and I covered your morning meeting with the Board of Nutrition. You have a few meetings with some of the delegate groups, but those can be reshuffled," Tory informed her.

"They may have to be. Our 'guest' is missing and until she's found, it's my responsibility as president that nothing happens to her. We have diplomatic relations to consider that are precarious at best," Roslin explained.

"Rearranging your schedule isn't a problem, Madame President," Tory replied.

As the conversation ended, Roslin turned back to Adama, pressing her hands on the table in front of her. "I hope they find her soon. This is not going to help the situation with her people."

He rested a hand lightly over one of hers. "It's not likely that she'd wander onto another deck by herself. She probably just got turned around. Aside from you, Kara, Lee, Saul, Athena, and me, I don't think she knows anybody."

Dee interrupted their conversation. "Sir, we're receiving a transmission from the _Prometheus_."

Adama walked over to Dee's console. "Put it through."

The voice on the audio-only transmission seemed hoarse. "Admiral, I hope you're listening to this. I'm Nigel Gorgon and I have something you might be interested in. I'll give her back, unharmed even, if you give my people here legal immunity, the coordinates to Earth, and access to the Cylon prisoner. You have twenty-six hours to respond to my terms."

When the transmission ended, Adama and Roslin stepped over to his office to talk. "The _Prometheus_ is the ship with the Black Market, isn't it?" Adama nodded and she continued. "Have you ever heard of him?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Lee keeps track of the Black Market. I'll find him."

She paced his office for a moment. "Bill, his voice, I don't know how to explain it, but it sounded familiar. Whoever it was, he was trying to disguise the voice by making it sound hoarse."

Folding his hands in front of him, he sighed. "You know who we'll have to go to if the Black Market's involved."

Roslin nodded. "Tory is reshuffling my schedule as we speak. You can call Lee and then we'll head to the lab."

Lee had told them that Nigel Gorgon was a name circulated once in a while, but not much was known about him. The man had placed himself in the murkier swamps of the Black Market and used other people to do his bidding. Roslin and Adama approached the lab to find Sonya by herself.

"Miss Getani," Adama stated.

She stood and gave a polite nod. "Admiral Adama. Baltar's in Life Station checking on his girlfriend. Was there something you needed?"

He stepped aside and the president entered the room. "Miss Getani, a woman has been kidnapped by a man named Nigel Gorgon. Did you know about the woman?"

Sonya chewed on her lower lip. "I had heard of a woman who sounded like she wasn't from the Colonies. I man I work with in the Black Market bumped into her and told me about it. After he had left, Baltar and I discussed it, but that's all. I never met anyone personally."

"Who is Nigel Gorgon?" Adama questioned.

The black-haired woman blinked in surprise. "He's my boss. Why do you ask?"

"He's kidnapped a woman that we need returned immediately. He has a list of demands that he has given us twenty-six hours to fill," Roslin explained.

Adama folded his hands in front of him. "How do we get her back without stirring up too much trouble?"

Rubbing her temples, Sonya sat on a stool. "_You_ can't. _I _can."

Roslin crossed her arms. "Would you mind clarifying that?"

Sonya looked up slowly at the two most powerful people in the fleet, feeling like a teenager who took the car without permission, facing the parents. "I'm the only one who knows enough about the Black Market to get close enough."

"It's important that we get this woman back," the admiral mentioned.

Nodding in agreement, Sonya continued. "It'll be risky, but I can do that."

"Good. We'll send marines-"

Sonya interrupted the admiral. "It won't do any good. I need to go in with the least amount of people in order to detract from suspicion. I'm going to need a couple of hours to plan this out, and I'll take someone with me for a distraction."

"You've got three hours," Adama told her.

As the 'parents' left, Sonya slumped forward, resting her head in her hands. _What have I volunteered for? I just wanted to be done with things so I could get back to my life. Now it'll be over, all because some woman from Earth was dumb enough to get herself kidnapped by a man whose sanity I question. He'll know it's me and that will be the end. So this is what it's like to be handed your death sentence_. She decided to order up a bottle of whiskey. When it arrived, it came with four glasses.

Baltar wandered in half an hour later. He noticed her furiously writing diagrams, sitting next to an open whiskey bottle with a full glass near her. "Isn't it a little early for that?"

She looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. "Well, if it isn't Dr. I'm-sleeping-in-this-morning? I have to plan an infiltration and rescue mission, so it doesn't matter what my beverage is."

The Six in his head bent down to look at Sonya's work. "_She seems troubled, Gaius. Why don't you ask her about it_?"

"May I ask why you have to plan this?" Baltar inquired.

Sonya paused, folding her hands in front of her. "Do you remember our conversation on the woman who said she was from 'Capricorn?' I guess Arnie wasn't gone yet and she's been kidnapped. I need to retrieve her and I think it will work if you come with me."

He scoffed. "As what? A moving target?"

"I can't do this alone, and it's not the sort of thing that I can have marines around for," she explained, downing the shot of whiskey.

Baltar crossed his arms. "You seem to be under the impression that I can take a day off. If I'm not in this lab, I should be over in Life Station, waiting for Caprica to wake up."

Sonya put her hands up in defense. "I know you're worried about your girlfriend, but we need to bring that other woman back before there's an intergalactic incident."

He leaned against the counter. "Why can't you just bargain for her?"

She rolled her eyes. "You don't get it. I have to go down there and get her myself, which means that I'm probably going to die. That's why I have whiskey sitting here."

"Won't that mean I'll die too? Or is that what you wanted from the beginning, to kill me off?" he challenged.

A slight smirk hung on her mouth. "You're far too much fun alive, but that's not what I'm talking about. As much as I really hate to admit this, I need your help. If you can pull off a big distraction, then I can do what I need to do."

"And what makes you think that you'll die and I won't?" he drilled.

She rested one elbow on the table, supporting her head with her hand. "Because you have an unfortunate knack for surviving. You're meant to stay alive; that's your penance. Mine is to live when I'm doing something illegal, and die the moment I try to do something legal."

Rearranging the empty vials on the counter, he mentioned, "How do you know who lives and who dies? For all you know, I've cheated death too many times already."

"I'm sorry, but you're going to live. That's how things are. My boss, Nigel Gorgon, doesn't take kindly to traitors," she commented.

Baltar looked back at her. "Did he choose that name?"

"I think so. He's always been strange like that. Regarding me, he'll know that I'm the only one capable of knowing enough about the Black Market to infiltrate it. Even if I do make it out alive, which is improbably, I'm finished down there. I have to turn my life upside down to get one woman back," she remarked.

"If you're so certain that you're going to die, then why are you wasting your last hours getting drunk?" he pointed out.

"Because I can, and from what I've heard about _Galactica's_ gym, the lab smells better. It's not like I'm allowed to go many other places anyway," she answered, downing another shot of whiskey. "What would you do if you knew you were going to die tomorrow, or in my case, later today?"

Her question sounded normal, yet it was one that he had never considered, let alone been asked. At every turn in his life, just as he was about to contemplate death, something changed the balance in his favor. It was something oddly out of his control. Even during the trial, he had focused on his book and on his defense, not on death. Yet she was asking him the very question that he had just asked her.

Gathering up what little courage he had, he plopped down on the stool next to hers. "I've never really thought much about a last request."

"It wouldn't be one last frak with the blonde?" Sonya teased, handing him a glass of whiskey.

He accepted the drink, but briefly eyed it suspiciously, wondering if her last action was to poison him. Conceding that it was not, he drank the liquid. "I think it would be to do one thing right, and know for a fact that it was the right thing."

She looked over at him, studying him. "I have a confession that you might find surprising, Dr. Baltar."

"Are you going to tell me that you're a figment of my imagination too?" he remarked.

She snorted. "I don't even want to know what that pertains to. I've just been thinking, maybe I don't hate you so much anymore, and you're not quite the asshole I thought you were."

He raised an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?"

Shaking her head, she smirked. "Take it for what it is, a deathbed confession."

He set the glass back on the counter behind him. "You're not going to die."

She threw her head back, downing another shot, slamming the empty glass on the counter next to his. "I know I am, and I might as well going to go down making a time of it."

"If you're considering Pyramids or Triad, those aren't the best games to play when you're drunk," Baltar commented.

"You should know by now that I prefer mind games. They're much more interesting," she told him, sliding off her stool and standing closer to him.

Suspecting that she could be wielding a knife behind her back, he hastily stumbled off his own stool and took a few steps back. "I'll- I'll have you know I need both my kidneys to survive."

She laughed. "You still think I'm after your internal organs? Look," she paused to hold up both empty hands, "nothing in my hands and nothing up my sleeves."

"Well that's a relief," he squeaked. "Right?"

A mischievous grin sat on her face. "Dr. Terrified-of-your-own-shadow, I think I'll settle for scaring you to death," she remarked. In the next instant she had grabbed him by the collar and shoved him back against the wall. Yanking him down to her level, her lips crashed into his for a hard, bruising, passionate kiss. She released him only when the need for oxygen became too great.

"Holy frak," he whispered.

She took a step back from him. "Good day, Dr. Baltar. I'll see you at the docking bay in two hours. And if you ever breathe a word of this conversation to anyone, I'll introduce you to an acid that can melt your skin off," she remarked calmly before exiting the lab.

"Maybe she did slip something in my drink," he said aloud.

(My thanks to Ionel, Calico Star, carolann, and Maud for reviewing :D)


	25. Love and Bullets'

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.

Chapter 25: 'Love and Bullets'

Sonya, wearing a simple, concrete-gray, one-piece deck hand suit, looked up from the box she had seated herself on when she noticed Baltar, wearing a storm-gray robe over his clothes with a hood. "I was wondering if you' actually show up or not."

"God knows why I let you talk me into this. I'm surprised you're sober enough for this mission," he retorted.

She stood. "I haven't had a drink for the last two hours. Come on, the Raptor's waiting."

He sat across from her inside the Raptor as the door closed. "I would like to know how this plan of yours is going to work."

She pulled the diagrams out of a front pocket. "I need you to create a big enough distraction to bring this man," she pointed to a dot in a line of squares that represented the trading booths, "out of his booth there. He has an access key that will lead me exactly where I need to go, but he can't know I'm there."

"What sort of distraction were you envisioning?" he probed, noticing that her outfit had several pockets, some appearing less flat than others.

"I don't know. Try some religious revival thing," she suggested.

"What then?" he inquired.

She folded the plans up and replaced them into her pocket. "I'll get the woman out of there. Most likely, Nigel has her in his office. Once I'm out of the office, you'll take her back to the Raptor while I run the other way."

He scoffed. "_That's_ your plan? You're going to get us both killed."

"Look, I don't have time to fight this. Just go with it. Like I told you before, you're the one who's going to live through this," she remarked, leaning back in her seat.

As the Raptor docked at the _Prometheus_, Sonya covered her head with a tan cloth. She let him exit the vessel first. "Now go, and be as loud as possible."

"You owe me for this!" he shouted back.

She left the Raptor and hid underneath one of the booth counters, watching him. He took a deep breath, feeling a moment of relief when his inner Six appeared. "_Come on, Gaius. Be the prophet. Tell them their gods are false_."

He nodded and it began. "Who are you worshipping?" he asked the crowd. Some people turned, others rolled their eyes and looked away. "I ask you, who are you worshipping? Have your gods every really done anything for you? Why do you serve gods that don't answer back? That you feel nothing for? That feel nothing for you? Serve the one true God. Leave your lies and follow the truth."

A few more looked his way. "What makes your beliefs better than ours? How do we know you're not speaking for the Cylons?" a woman carrying sweaters to trade asked.

"I don't serve the Cylons. I serve the one true God, a God of love and compassion. Throw down your statues, your idols, and believe the truth," he called out.

Sonya watched as Arnie left his booth to join the commotion. "How can you expect us to believe you after what you did on New Caprica?"

Baltar looked directly at him. "Because I didn't know the truth then. My life was a mess until I saw the truth."

Leaving her hiding place under the counter, Sonya did not hear what else Baltar had to say as she headed toward Arnie's booth. Once she reached it, she glanced from one side to the other before pulling the curtain back. She headed toward a table in the back of the room. Reaching it, she pressed her hand to the underside of it and found what she sought: the access key to the other decks. Then she left the booth and made her way to a door. She swiped the key and passed through it. Next she crept toward the ladder. Soon she was on the upper deck, heading for Nigel Gorgon's office.

Inside the office, Abigail woke to a chocking sensation. She could hardly breathe through the smoke in the room. Putting her hands out in front of her, she felt carpet. She also realized that her hands were not bound. As she pulled herself to a sitting position to assess her circumstances, she heard the squeak of an office chair behind her.

"Well it's nice to see that you're awake," a young, but slightly hoarse voice told her.

_It must be the smoke causing him to sound like that_, Abigail reasoned as she turned to face the speaker. However, all she saw was what looked like a shadow sitting in a chair, the dim lighting of the room, coupled with the smoke having obscured the true image. "What do you want with me?"

"I want to know how to get to Earth, of course," he answered.

She stood, trying desperately not to breathe in the smoke, covering her nose and mouth with both hands. "I don't know what you're talking about," she decided to bluff.

"I'm not stupid. Which of the Colonies are you from then, if you're not from Earth?" he probed.

_I have a feeling that my answering that probably got me into this mess_. "Why should I tell you?"

The man chuckled darkly. "You're brighter than I've been led to believe. But it's for your own benefit if you do. I can let you go if you tell me what I want to know."

Abigail moved covertly toward the door, fingering the latch quietly. "I really don't know what you're talking about."

"That door's locked. You can't get out on your own," he told her, pausing to raise an object that she could barely see. "Now I suggest you start at the beginning. You see, or maybe you don't see, I have a loaded gun. When I want answers, I get them."

Realizing that he was not falling for her first ploy, she decided to try Plan B. "Alright, I'm not from the Colonies. But I don't know the special coordinates. I'm only a linguist. I was brought here by accident."

"Hmm, that's more plausible, but I don't know if I believe that any more than the other story you tried to pass off on me. So here's how we're going to play the game: somebody out there knows the coordinates. I've already sent a transmission for your ransom. If they really want you back, they'll give me what I want," the man explained.

Abigail sighed and sat back down on the floor. _We may have a long wait then_, she concluded.

Sonya was footsteps away from the door, devising a plan that her boss might buy. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door, using the eight-knock code that Arnie had used on her last visit. "Go away. I specifically asked not to be disturbed," Nigel's voice growled.

"It's Sonny Jets," Sonya called back. "I'm here about your guest."

She heard shuffling and then the clicking of the locking mechanism in the door. "Then by all means," his shadowy form mentioned as he opened the door.

Sonya stepped into the office, withholding the urge to cringe at the oca smoke engulfing the room. She watched her boss sit at his desk, and her peripheral vision noticed a woman sitting on the floor. Sonya assumed her usual swagger and approached the desk. "That is what you're ransoming?" Sonya asked, pointing toward Abigail, who glared back.

"Sonny, Sonny, she has potential. Those up top want her. Since you're back, they obviously sent you to negotiate for her. What have you got?" he probed.

Slowly pacing the room as if she had all the time in the universe, she glanced at Abigail and then turned back to him. "The admiral and the president aren't being as cooperative as they could be."

He laughed. "When are they?"

"They just don't understand how we do things down here. I mean, it took hours for them to get you this," she stated, pulling a document out of a different pocket than the one she had used for the escape plan diagrams. She had forged a document guaranteeing legal immunity for those onboard the _Prometheus_, with a false signature of both the admiral and the president.

Nigel examined the document. "Impressive. And the Cylon? What did they say to that?"

"The Cylon prisoner was the only one of your demands they couldn't meet. You wouldn't want her anyway. She's in a coma," Sonya revealed.

He sat forward in his chair. "I take it that means you have the coordinates to Earth then?"

She turned her head to glance at him over her shoulder, almost flirtatiously. "Would I be one of the best if I didn't?"

"You can't! Don't you know what you're doing? You're handing a whole planet over to him! How can you do this?" Abigail shrieked.

Sonya snorted and turned back to Nigel. "How do you shut her up?"

"Sonny, I can't wait to have you back here again. When should I expect you?" he inquired.

"Hopefully after I bring her back to our esteemed, gullible leaders," Sonya mentioned, resting one hand against his desk.

"Well? Don't leave me in suspense then. Where are the coordinates?" he mused, tracing the bones in her hand.

_I really hate it when he does that_. "I have them right here. Then I should be going. The sooner I get her back to them, the sooner I can go back to your assignments. They've always been so much more fun. You wouldn't believe what they've had me doing the last few days."

"Of course. Now, the coordinates?" he pursued.

She plunged her hand into yet another of the several pockets on her outfit and removed a folded piece of paper. Shaking it out, she placed it on his desk. "There it is, the key to a new venue for business."

"It is always business with you, Sonny. One of these days, you'll opt for pleasure instead," he responded.

Walking over to Abigail, she grasped the woman's upper arm. "Get up."

Abigail stood stiffly. "I hope you know what you've done, you heartless thief."

Sonya scoffed. "Did you hear that, Nigel? She calls me the thief." He was still laughing as the women left the office. One the door closed, Sonya began dragging Abigail down the hallway. "We have to hurry."

"I can't believe you did that!" the linguist continued to complain.

"There's no time for this. Shut up and work with me. We have to get out of here as quickly as possible," Sonya stated as then climbed down the ladder.

"Why should I bother?" Abigail retorted.

Rolling her eyes, Sonya continued to pull Abigail by the arm. "Because we have less than ten minutes until he realizes that the coordinates I gave him were false."

The linguist could only take an incredulous glance. "You what?"

"They were faked. Everything was faked. Now will you please hurry your ass along?" Sonya pressed.

"Well, I certainly never expected this when I woke up this morning," Abigail mentioned, matching Sonya's pace. As they moved, Sonya noticed a blinking blue light behind a counter that they passed.

Sonya took Abigail by the hand and towed her through the crowd by the trading booths. She spotted Baltar and pulled at his robe from the back. He wheeled around, startled to find her. "I've got a convert for you," Sonya remarked, placing Abigail in front of her. "Take her and go."

"Why can't you?" he questioned as they began moving toward the docking bay.

"Because of them," she stated, pointing to the shop keepers behind her that moved in her direction. "Nigel must have set off the alarm. It's a light in everyone's booths instead of a sound."

"How do you know they're after you right now? Perhaps they're after me for causing a public disturbance," he suggested.

She looked over her shoulder and saw not only the shop keepers then, but also Arnie, followed by a taller person in a form of desert garb that revealed nothing of the person's appearance. "I think that Hades has finally emerged from the underworld. Now run! It's me they want."

Sonya darted off to the left, behind a row of booths. Baltar pulled the hood back over his head and took Abigail's hand. "I think she means her boss. Come on," he instructed as they weaved through the crowd, back toward the Raptor. Every few steps though, he glanced back to see where Sonya had gone. At suddenly hearing shots fired, he quickened his pace.

They reached the Raptor with a curious, violent crowd of spectators following them. Baltar helped Abigail into the vessel first, and then placed his hands on the sides of the door frame to enter himself. Then to Abigail's surprise, he stepped back.

"_What are you doing, Gaius? Get back in there_," the Six in his head ordered.

He ignored her and only leaned in. "If I'm not back in twenty minutes, just go," he told the pilot."

"What's going on?" Abigail inquired.

"I have to do something," he replied, heading back into the crowd.

The Six in his head tried to block his path. "_No! You have a destiny_!"

"Oh shut up! I'm taking my fate into my own hands for once," he told her, sauntering right through where she would have been standing.

He looked to where he had last seen Sonya. Careful to blend into one of the hooded groups that wandered through the _Prometheus_, he followed where he estimated she might have gone. Instinct told him to keep his gaze on the ground. He was not surprised when he spotted her, curled up in between a book booth and a newspaper booth.

Her right hand rested on a crimson stain on the lower right side of her abdomen. "You've been shot," he stated, kneeling down next to her.

Though in pain, her sarcasm was still present. "Ding, ding, ding, give the man a cigar. I knew there was a reason why you're supposed to be a genius." Then she closed her eyes.

He touched her face. "Hey. Stay with me. The people after you have gone off on the other side of the market place." Then he reached for her head covering. "You should lose this. It seems people recognize you with it on. Maybe you'll draw less attention with it off."

"Why did you come back?" she asked as he removed her head covering and held it against the bullet wound.

"I had to do one thing right. Can you walk?" he inquired.

She shook her head. "Not without leaving a trail of blood"

"Hold on then," he remarked, scooping her up into his arms.

She glared at him. "This is beyond awkward."

"Yes, but at least you're not painting the town red single-handed," he mentioned.

The Raptor was in sight when Baltar noticed a group of marines disembarking from another one. Tigh led them and as Baltar neared them, the colonel stated, "Admiral Adama decided to send them anyway."

Sonya pulled herself up to over Baltar's shoulder. "Good thing. They've realized where I've gone and they're heading this way," she informed them, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Go on. Get her to the Raptor and return the other woman. We'll handle it from here," Tigh told him.

Baltar passed by, carrying Sonya, as the marines stopped Arnie before he could run far, grabbing his arms. "You're under arrest," one of them said.

"It's a good thing that the 'Old Man' sent backup," Tigh remarked as the marines fired a few more warning shots. The crowd stepped back and left a man covered from head to toe in what looked like desert robes standing by himself.

"Nice to see who you can trust," the man sneered.

Tigh walked over to him, pointing a gun at his head. "Something tells me you're the other guy that we need to arrest."

What they did not see as they escorted Arnie and the other man to the second Raptor was one of the shop keepers with a narrow gun that could fire from a distance. As Baltar set Sonya in the Raptor, the bullet hit him in the back. He cried out in pain while Abigail screamed in shock, then helped to pull him into the Raptor and close the door. "We need to leave," she told the pilot.

"It looks like one of us is going to die anyway," Baltar gasped.

As he lay sprawled out on the floor, Abigail sat on a seat while Sonya was curled up on the floor near him. She glanced over at the linguist. "I don't know much about these things, but try to slide his robe off. It's probably better if we don't move him any more than he's already been moved."

The other woman nodded, carefully sliding Baltar's robe over his head. Then she pressed it against the wound that was soaking his shirt. "Good idea," he whispered.

Facing him, Sonya shook her head. "You frakkin' idiot. You were supposed to live."

"You… gave up… and let yourself get shot," he accused.

"You shouldn't have come back for me," she retorted.

The sharp pain in his upper back burned into his responses. "At least… at least," he began to say.

She rolled her eyes, even as her right hand found its way on top of his. "If you say 'at least we'll always have New Caprica,' I really will rip out your spine."

Each breath he took felt as though he was climbing a mountain. "I'd like… to see you… try."

"Maybe… mmh," she winced in pain, but continued, "maybe we'll both live through this after all."

"At least I… did something right," he muttered. Sonya then gripped his hand, more for herself than for him, as if the small action could enable her to stay conscious.

Dr. Cottle waited in _Galactica's_ docking bay, the pilot having notified him of the situation. Adama and Roslin were also in attendance. Tigh's Raptor landed first. "Seems we've got two more for the brig. One of them might even be the guy who called in for the ransom" he told his CO.

"Start interrogating them and we'll be by later," Adama responded.

When the other Raptor docked, Cottle stood with a few medics and two stretchers. The medics placed Sonya on one and Baltar on the other. As they were carried out, the admiral and the president approached Abigail, who emerged slowly from the Raptor. Roslin watched her with concern. "You're not hurt, are you?"

Abigail took a deep breath. "No, Madame President. Thankfully I'm fine. I owe those other two people a 'thank you' though."

Roslin and her detail walked Abigail to the guest quarters while Adama headed to the brig. When Roslin was able to catch up with him, she found him standing outside the door. "Bill, what's going on?"

"We've just finished interrogating the first man. His name is Arnie Sykes. He admits to overhearing Getani and Baltar, also to the kidnapping. He seems to be your run-of-the-mill Black Market thug turned businessman. I'm not sure what to do with him though," the admiral told her.

"He can stay in the brig for now. I told you letting the Black Market slide was a bad idea, didn't I? But you and your son had to insist that the illegal trade would be worse without one," the president pointed out.

"At the time Lee and I had a point, but then most decisions look different with the benefit of hindsight," he responded, his gaze drifting from the door back to her.

She crossed her arms in front of her. "And the other man? Is he the one who was holding her for ransom?"

"We were about to interrogate him when you arrived," Adama stated.

"Then why are you standing outside?" Roslin questioned.

Adama put a hand on her shoulder before she could enter the brig. "There's something you need to know first. Do you remember when Athena told you about there being two copies of one of the Final Five?"

Roslin nodded. "Are you saying that the man we've captured is someone we've seen before?"

He sighed heavily, regret present in his eyes. "He's more than someone we've seen before. He's someone you knew very well. Are you sure you want to do this? I can interrogate him myself."

"No, I need to do this. Let's just go in," she responded.

With his hand pressed discreetly on the small of her back, she entered the brig. Her feet froze in place as the man in the cell turned to face her, his head covering having been removed. She recognized the pale skin, brown curly hair, and the eyes. But the face itself wore a hardened expression, with scars around the mouth and an icy stare.

"Billy," she whispered.

The man's brow furrowed. "Nigel Gorgon."

The voice was Billy's but smoking oca had given it a hoarse quality. Roslin took a deep breath and composed herself. Before she could begin the interrogation though, the dog appeared. His presence was a mild relief as she watched him bark ferociously at the prisoner. "Mr. Gorgon, are you the man who held a woman hostage in exchange for information such as the coordinates to Earth?"

"You already know the answer to that. Try one that's new," he threw back.

Her confidence grew slightly as her authority fell back into place. "Are you a Cylon, Mr. Gorgon?"

One of the marines walked over to her. "He's got a data port sticking out of his arm," the man mentioned, gesturing to it.

"How long have you known that you are a Cylon?" Roslin inquired, biting back the nausea that threatened to boil in her stomach.

The face that did not belong to Billy smirked. "Now that is a good question, so I'll answer it. I work on computers, I understand them well. But it became something more when we entered this nebula. I could feel my computer. On a guess, I slashed a vein and stuck a live wire into it. I could access a part of my computer and see it in my head as I was seeing it on the monitor. Then I thought, 'This probably means that I'm a Cylon.'"

"Have you been receiving orders from the other Cylons?" Adama probed.

Nigel laughed, but the sound was harsh. "If they were sending me orders, I wouldn't be here now. All I wanted was a chance for new business that this 'Earth' of yours could offer. Now I think it's time you answered a question for me."

"You've been arrested. You're in no position to negotiate," Adama pointed out.

"Oh, I believe that I am. Madame President, why do you keep looking at me like you've seen a ghost?" Nigel asked.

She crossed her arms. "That's none of your concern."

Tory stepped near her boss. "I think we've done enough for today, ma'am."

Roslin glanced from Tory to Adama, and then to the prisoner before she turned back to her aide. "Let's go then."

The three of them stepped out into the corridor where Roslin braced herself against the wall. Adama rested a hand on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Laura."

"Bill, I don't think I can do that again," she whispered.

"I was trying to warn you. I should've been more direct," he mentioned.

She put up a hand to wave off his concern. "I may be sick. I'll just find the bathroom, if you don't mind."

"I'll come with you," Adama hastily offered.

"You have things you need to do here. I'll be fine in a while," she reassured him.

Reluctantly he let her go, thankful that at least she had not complained about Tory following her. As Roslin reached the public bathroom, it was blessedly unoccupied. She emptied the contents of her stomach and then splashed cool water on her face from one of the white sinks. Tory noticed that tears mingled with the water from the faucet.

"Madame President, is there anything I can do?" the aide offered.

Roslin glanced toward the paper towel dispenser and Tory handed one to her. "It brought back Billy's death. Seeing that man was like seeing Billy's evil twin. I can't do it. I can't deal with this."

Tory carefully placed an arm around Roslin's shoulders. The older woman allowed Tory to pull her into a hug for a moment. "That's why you have the admiral."

Pulling back, Roslin smiled gratefully at her aide. "Thank you, Tory."

"Any time, Madame President," the other woman responded. "Are you still up for your meeting?"

Roslin nodded. "I want to call Life Station first though and find out how Baltar and Getani are doing."

She placed the call from the admiral's quarters. "Getani is recovering and she'll probably be fine in a few days. She got lucky. The bullet hit her appendix."

"I suppose that's good. I can't believe I'm asking this, but how is Baltar?" the president inquired.

"He's still in surgery. Honestly I don't know if he'll make it or not. The bullet missed his spine, but not his left lung. I'm surprised that he made it to Life Station at all," Cottle explained.

"I'd like to ask Getani a few questions. Perhaps I'll do that tomorrow," Roslin stated before hanging up the phone. She and Tory then resumed their walk toward the boardroom, with one detour.

Abigail had been assigned a marine at all hours, who would be trading off with another every six hours, only leaving when the other marine arrived. After leaving Sonya in Life Station, Roslin had called to check on Abigail before leaving for another meeting the morning after her rescue.

The linguist set one of the cultural books that the admiral had loaned her down on the table as she stood to answer the door. "Madame President," Abigail greeted.

Roslin smiled politely. "It's 'Laura' at the moment. Abigail, I came by to see how you were doing."

"I admit that I'm still a little shaken from all that's happened. Do you know anything about the two people who rescued me?" she inquired, offering Roslin a chair.

"I won't be staying long. I have heard that Miss Getani will recover, but Dr. Baltar is still in surgery," Roslin explained. "If you'd like a cup of tea to calm your nerves, the mess hall has a few varieties that you can call for, or I can find you a few bags."

"Thank you, Laura, but I'm alright for now," Abigail replied. The president then left with Tory, who had been waiting in the hall.

Tory walked Roslin over to the meeting, pausing outside of the door. "Madame President, are you sure you're up to this?" the aide inquired.

"Some things have to be done," the president responded before entering the room.

Zarek and Lee watched her with concern. "Madame President," Lee began, "are you sure this is what you-"

"Gentlemen, I need to do this," she interrupted him.

"But why? Zarek is the vice president, already the successor," Lee pointed out.

Zarek leaned forward. "Mr. Adama, we both know that the admiral is not going to accept my presidency."

Roslin folded her hands on the table in front of her. "Lee, after careful consideration, I have determined that I want you as my successor."

"With me along as vice president, of course," Zarek added.

"But what's so important about figuring this out now?" Lee protested.

Roslin put on her best presidential mask, keeping a stoic tone. "Lee, I have three weeks left to live. Will you accept the proposition or not?"

His eyes widened and he did not mask the sorrow that fell over his face. "Laura, does… does my father know?"

"Yes. I will soon need to make a fleet-wide announcement, which includes naming a successor, before the fleet splits in the next jump," she explained.

The younger man placed a hand over hers, reminding her for a second of his father. He looked directly into the eyes of the woman he could almost call 'mother.' She was asking him to trust her judgment, and carry out a personal request. "Ma'am, I will accept what you suggest. If there's anything I can do, please let me know."

She smiled back warmly. "Thank you, Lee."

Turning her attention back to the files in front of her, she opened the top folder, leafing through it. However, she stopped seeing the words on the page. _They changed and began to look more like the binary code of one's and zero's. She looked up and she did not see Zarek or Lee, but instead saw the Final Five sitting around her. Each had a file in front of them. As they opened the files simultaneously, Roslin stood to see what they had. Inside each file was one piece of paper, covered with a sequences of one's and zero's, shaped like a giant puzzle piece. And each piece had a different shape that most likely interlocked with the other four. Then the entire image blurred_.

Lee gasped as Roslin suddenly froze and then slumped forward on the desk. He faced Zarek, panic etched into his face. "Call Dr. Cottle, now!"

(A/N: I know I'm going to get flak for making Lee the successor, but if you recall, the Lee in my story is different from the one on the show, so please be kind)

(My thanks to carolann and Ceridwyn2 for reviewing :D)


	26. Next in line

(minisode one for Razor is alluded to)

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel. Minisode one for _Razor_ is alluded to.

Chapter 26: Next in line

Roslin woke in Life Station, seeing Adama sitting in a chair next to the bed. He held her hand, watching her pensively. She squeezed back and smiled. "Bill, how long have I been here?"

"About thirty minutes," he mentioned, sitting up straighter.

She wondered why he was not sitting on the bed next to her. "What happened?"

Cottle stepped into view and lifted her other hand, which had an IV attached to it like an extra vein. "I've given you a nutrient mixture. It should be finished in a little while."

"Apparently you fainted, Madame President," the admiral told her.

_Madame President?_ She blinked with irritation. "Bill, what the frak is- oh," she paused, noticing Zarek and Lee in the room.

"Lee and the vice president brought you here. Then they called me," Adama explained.

She looked over at the doctor. "Why did I pass out?"

"I wish I knew. Usually these things have a logical explanation, medically speaking. The nearest I can figure is that your body's not metabolizing enough nutrients from what you've been eating," Cottle deduces.

"What happened before you passed out?" Adama asked.

Roslin glanced over at Lee and Zarek before answering. "I need to talk to you, alone."

Cottle decided to help and walked over to the other men. "I'm afraid I have to ask you two to wait over there."

Zarek reluctantly headed over to the waiting area, followed by Lee. "So this is how things are," the older man stated.

"It's probably about Earth or something they can't tell us yet," Lee suggested.

Leaning forward in his seat, Zarek shook his head. "You and I both know that it's about a lot more than that. I should've seen it. Those two are involved, intimately involved."

"Then we should stay out of it," Lee mentioned.

Zarek eyed Lee suspiciously, thinking that he might be hiding something. "You know something about this, don't you?"

"It's none of our business," Lee responded, looking back toward the now curtained-off area where the president and the admiral were talking.

Having a curtain sheltering them from the all too curious vice president's view, Adama sat on the bed next to Roslin. "I had a vision," she began.

"Before you passed out?" he inquired.

She nodded. "The Final Five were in the boardroom. They each had a piece of paper in front of them, shaped like a puzzle piece. On those pieces were binary code sequences. Then everything blurred and went black."

"As if we needed any more puzzles," he stated.

Sighing, she laid back against the pillows. "Why is everything so complicated? It's never just quiet or boring. What I wouldn't give for a boring day right now."

"In the first Cylon war, all I wanted was to see action. Now, I would agree with you that I could really use a boring day," he remarked. She suddenly smirked and he raised an eyebrow as he looked over at her. "What?"

"You just reminded me that I'd like to know how you got your call sign before I die," she relayed.

He snorted. "You really want to go to the 'Great Beyond' with a story like that?"

She giggled. "Now I'm sure that I do. So tell me. How did you end up with 'Husker?'"

_You sound like you've resolved yourself to death again, but we'll discuss that later_. A nostalgic, yet mischievous smile crossed his face as he turned to her. "The only other person who knows what I'm about to tell you is Saul. Not even Lee has heard the whole thing," he began. "Back when I was just starting as a Viper pilot, one colonel used to do bed checks. That's when he would go around knocking on all of the pilots' doors, making sure that everyone was accounted for."

Roslin grinned before peering over Adama's shoulder to see a glass of water on the table. He followed her gaze and handed it to her. "Thank you. I'll bet those bed checks were pretty inconvenient at times."

"That's for sure," he stated as he put a hand behind his neck. "It's actually pretty embarrassing. Long before I met my wife, I had a girlfriend. She was actually a lot like Starbuck in personality. Anyway, she and I were up to what I will only refer to as 'certain acts of which a gentleman does not divulge'" he paused as Roslin snickered, "when the colonel decided that a more intrusive bed check was needed."

"Deities, don't tell me you didn't lock the door!" Roslin exclaimed, barely able to hold back her laughter.

Adama's cheeks flushed and he cleared his throat. "That would be no. Colonel Bracket saw far more than any superior officer should have. Then he shouted, 'That's one way to husk her' loud enough so that everyone probably heard him halfway down the hallway, in both directions. The next day I heard a bunch of whistles and one of the other pilots shouted, 'Hey Husker, how was your night?' And the name stuck."

The president giggled until Adama wondered what the interns, along with Lee and Zarek, might be thinking at that point. Taking a deep breath, she faced him with a devious grin. "I'm going to remember that one and call you 'Husker' when you least expect it."

"Saul's going to find that amusing," Adama commented, his hands covering hers.

"What happened to the woman? Did she get teased too?" Roslin inquired.

Adama looked away and sighed. "She died in an on-deck accident not long after that night."

"I'm sorry," Roslin said quickly.

"It was a long time ago," he stated flatly, his gaze fixed on a point past her bed. Then the moment passed and he looked back to her. "How are you feeling?"

She shrugged. "I'm tired, but other than that, I've felt worse. We should bring Lee and Zarek back over."

"So it's back to business then?" he mused.

"I'm afraid so," she concluded. He left the bed, but not before giving her a tender kiss.

Zarek and Lee stood when they saw the curtain opening. "Finally. I was beginning to wonder if the doctor was just going to send us home."

Cottle was disconnecting her IV as the other men approached the bed. "Madame President, you're free to go."

"Thank you, Jack," she told him. Then she gracefully slid off the bed, facing the others. "Gentlemen, we need to make an announcement to the fleet."

She took the admiral's arm and led the way out of Life Station with Zarek and Lee following. "Is anyone ever going to let me in on what's going on?" Zarek complained.

"You have your own sources, Tom. How well they work for you is your business," Roslin teased.

"I'm glad you find all this amusing. I am terribly curious though as to what was so funny a few minutes ago in Life Station," Zarek mentioned.

Roslin and Adama both smirked. "A military answer to civilian invasive tactics," she replied.

"In other words, you're probably better off not knowing," Lee told Zarek.

They entered CIC and Adama gave Roslin the wireless. "You sure you want to do this?" he asked her.

She sighed and nodded. "It has to be done."

Zarek watched the two with interest, noticing the glances and silent exchanges. What they did not say was almost as important as what they did say. Holding the wireless, she turned her gaze toward the window where she could see some of the other ships. She wanted to address her audience. When she spoke, she detached herself emotionally from the words.

"Attention Colonial Fleet, this is Laura Roslin, President of the Twelve Colonies. As many of you know, I am dying. I regret to announce that I have weeks left. But one of my last acts is to appoint Mr. Lee Adama as my eventual successor. It has been a privilege to serve you. I thank you for your respect and your loyalty. I only hope that you can give the same to Mr. Adama as we continue our quest for Earth. Thank you."

She let out a breath as she handed the wireless back to Adama. He placed it back in the holder while resting his other hand against the small of her back for support. After a pause, both regained their usual propriety. Zarek watched the two with interest. "Cancer's made her a little unsteady," Lee whispered to him.

The president turned to the admiral. "I think it's time that we spoke to Dr. Felds again." He agreed and the two made their way to her quarters, Lee and Zarek trailing behind again.

Roslin knocked on the door of the guest quarters. Abigail opened it to not the usual two people, but four. "Madame President, Admiral, what's going on?"

"First of all, if we could have the coordinates to Saturn Station, then the fleet can begin the jump sequence," Adama told her as the group stepped inside.

"I can do that. Was there anything else?" she inquired.

The admiral glanced back at the president, who in turn looked at Lee. "I am dying. You've already met Lee. He will be my successor, and I was hoping that you might introduce him to your leader."

Abigail's brow furrowed, hearing that Roslin was dying. "I'm sorry, I really am. Of course I'll speak with him about the change."

Roslin entered the admiral's quarters to rest while the others returned to CIC. Zarek kept pace with Lee. "So you did bring someone back from Earth."

"We had to keep it classified," Lee told him.

"Don't you think it's a good idea that this leader meets the vice president as well as the presidential successor?" Zarek stated.

The admiral had to bite back the urge to tell him off. Surprisingly Abigail had the solution. "Actually it is better if the chancellor deals with as few people as possible. He doesn't speak to you Colonials with the rest of his leaders. It's about keeping things as simple as possible."

Zarek sighed heavily. "Fine then. Mr. Adama, I'll be at the shuttle bay waiting when this is all over. I want an update," he stated before walking off.

"You don't like him much, do you?" Abigail asked Adama.

"Not particularly," the admiral related.

Lee smirked. "That's my father's way of saying that he'd only trust Zarek as far as he could through him."

After they reached CIC and Abigail gave them the coordinates for the space station, she contacted the chancellor while the fleet was making preparations for the jumps. "_Dr. Baldwin, it's always good to see you,"_ Chancellor Byron stated as his face appeared on the screen in Adama's office.

"_You as well, Chancellor. I must tell you of a change that has occurred. President Roslin, whom you've met, is most unfortunately dying. She has appointed a successor though and they thought that I should introduce him to you_," Abigail explained.

"_I am sorry to hear that. But by all means, please proceed_," Byron told her.

Lee stepped over to her so that he could be seen in the screen. He had asked to be introduced by his formal name. "_This is Mr. Leland Adama. Mr. Adama, meet Chancellor Byron_."

"How do you do, sir?" Lee began politely.

"_I'm quite well, young man. Are you by any chance related to Admiral Adama_?" the chancellor inquired.

"He's my son," Adama told him.

"_Ah. Well, once again I am sorry to hear that President Roslin won't be with us long. Please accept my condolences_," Byron expressed.

The admiral shifted from one foot to the other, the subject matter becoming uncomfortable. Abigail noticed and decided to change the subject. "_Chancellor, would you please tell us how things are progressing with General Chesterton_?"

Byron sighed and folded his hands in front of him on the desk. "_I'm sorry to tell you that he's still a problem. However, he is losing popularity with the general public_."

After the conversation with the chancellor, Abigail returned to her temporary quarters as Lee headed to the docking bay to meet Zarek. As Adama stood in CIC to finish his shift, the phone rang. "Adama," he answered it.

"Bill, I almost forgot. Have you seen Tory lately?" Roslin inquired.

He thought for a moment. "No, I haven't, not since Lee and Zarek brought you in. All I know is that she's cleared your schedule for the rest of the day."

"Tomorrow I should find out how Getani is doing. We may still need her working in the lab," the president concluded.

"Alright. But today, you should rest while you have the opportunity," he reminded.

"I will, thanks Bill," she said before hanging up her end of the phone.

On the next day, after a breakfast of algae pancakes, Roslin met Cottle as she entered Life Station. "I've come to check on yesterday's patients."

"The woman just woke up," Cottle mentioned, motioning for Roslin to follow him. He led her to a bed on the quiet end of Life Station. Sonya turned her head as the two arrived. "Baltar. What… what happened to Baltar?" Sonya inquired, still groggy from the anesthesia.

Cottle stepped closer to her bed. "We removed the bullet and he's alive, but he's lost a lot of blood and I'm not sure when he'll wake up."

Sonya turned her head to face the ceiling as she lied back against the pillows. "That frakkin' idiot. This is because he came back for me."

"How are you feeling, Miss Getani?" Roslin inquired.

The other woman closed her eyes for a moment, taking a long deep breath. "Sore. I've been shot, but that will heal. What I'm having trouble with is the fact that my enemy saved my life. I told him that I hated him, and he still went back for me."

"You should be back on your feet in a few days. If you're planning on going back to the Prometheus though, I'd say stay out of the oca," Cottle advised.

"I can't go back to the Black Market, not after what's happened regarding my boss. For the first time in a while I don't have a backup plan," Sonya realized.

Roslin folded her hands in front of her. "That can be determined when you're feeling better. I want to know about Nigel Gorgon. Have you ever seen what he looks like? Did you know he was a Cylon?"

Sonya smirked. "You don't waste time, do you, Madame President?"

"I don't have time to waste," Roslin responded.

"I met him after New Caprica. No, I've never really seen what he looks like. He's always kept his office dim, and then there's the oca smoke that makes everything hazy. I suspected that he might possibly be a Cylon on my last trip to the Black Market, when I noticed the data port in his arm. However, he's been known to try some strange things, so I tried not to think much of it," Sonya answered.

_I could lecture her on putting the fleet in danger, but at the moment it wouldn't do any good_. "We'll talk more later. Good day, Miss Getani."

Sonya nodded. "Madame President."

On her way out of Life Station, Roslin found Tory standing in the doorway. "Madame President," the aide greeted. "I was told that I'd find you here."

"Tory, where have you been?" Roslin probed.

The younger woman showed her a folder of Six's results from the binary code testing. "I wanted to look over what happened with the experiment. The fact is that you need to find out what the last code does, and to do that, you need another Cylon."

"It's not exactly a safe experiment. Who would want to put themselves in that kind of danger?" Roslin questioned.

Tory eyes met Roslin's with conviction. "I would."

(A/N: I was curious and looked up what the name 'Leland' means. It's land that "lies fallow," or in other words, land not being used or rested in crop season)

(My thanks to voodooDRUG, The Breeze, carolann, Calico Star, Ceridwyn2, and kappaomega for reviewing :D)


	27. Husker'

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.

Chapter 27: 'Husker'

Roslin's eyes widened. "No, Tory. It's too risky."

"Madame President, for the safety of the fleet, we need to know what the last code does," Tory argued.

The older woman sighed heavily and sat, rubbing the bridge of her nose, a habit acquired from the admiral. "You're asking me to let you risk your life on a gamble. Let's at least try to look at this rationally. I'm dying. After I'm gone, the government is still going to need a sense of order. You have some great organizational skills that are going to be a huge asset to Lee, and to the government in general. I've trusted you to be a logical person in these matters. Now you've asked me to not only risk your life, but also to risk the government."

Tory shook her head. "Ma'am, not knowing is just as big a risk. I want to do this."

"I need to talk with the admiral about this," Roslin remarked.

"I can accept that," the aide responded.

Roslin then left Life Station and headed to CIC. Adama looked over to see her enter and smiled politely. "How are you this morning?" he asked quietly.

She smiled calmly at his concern. "I'm alright." Then she leaned closer and whispered, "I need to talk to you. Can you get away for a moment?"

He looked over his shoulder. "It's all yours, Saul," he stated before guiding Roslin over to his office. "What's wrong?" he asked her.

Folding her hands in front of her, she perched herself on the edge of the table. "Tory wants to volunteer for the last binary code sequence."

"And you think it's too big of a risk," he assessed.

"I can't let her do this, Bill, not when she's got so much of a future ahead of her. The Six is still in a coma. I wouldn't ask Saul, Chief Tyrol, or Mr. Anders either," she mentioned.

Adama paced the room and then turned back to her. "We've overlooked a very simple solution then. Why not use Nigel Gorgon?"

At the mention of the man whom she had deemed 'Billy's evil twin,' her gaze fell to her shoes for a moment. "I suppose we could try that, as long as I'm not there."

"It's worth considering though," Adama added, resting one of his hands on top of hers, gently stroking the back of it with his thumb. "What are you doing today?"

"I actually have a meeting with your son. I need to show him how to handle the paperwork for the job," she told him.

Smiling, he kissed her forehead. "We're married. You might as well call him 'our son.'"

She grinned back, bringing her hands to his shoulders. "You know, I think I like the sound of that."

He kissed her soundly and then she left, heading to their quarters. Tory walked with her, silently keeping pace. As they reached the hatch, Tory followed her inside. Lee had not yet arrived and Tory needed an answer. "Madame President, what did he say?"

Roslin sat down at Adama's desk. "He suggested that we use our newest prisoner instead."

Tory blinked in surprise. "I hadn't thought of that. It might be a good use for him."

She left when Lee opened the hatch, scurrying off to check more reports. Lee smiled warmly at Roslin. "Madame President."

"Lee, it's good to see you. And it's 'Laura' at the moment," she mentioned.

He pulled up a chair and sat across from her, eyeing the stack of papers in front of her suspiciously. "So what's the plan?"

She gave him the patient smile of a teacher. "You, Captain Apollo, are learning how to be president."

"I've got some idea about politics from working with Zarek," Lee mentioned.

Roslin flipped the first folder open. "Politics, yes. But presidential matters are a different story."

They spent the next two hours looking through reports on the policies that she had used, as well as the difference between relevant complaints such as food distribution, compared to irrelevant complaints like the sweater situation. "From what little I know about the military," she paused as they shared smirks, "as CAG you look out for your pilots. As president, you're looking out for everyone."

Lee nodded and glanced at his watch. "How about we take a break for lunch?"

"That sounds reasonable," she responded.

He grinned. "Great. You know, I could find Kara and she could join us."

Roslin smiled warmly. "I'd like that."

"We'll bring the food with us," he stated as he rose to leave. Suddenly alone, Roslin smiled and decided that it was time for a particular phone call and dialed CIC. Knowing full well that it was not a secure line, she spoke to Tigh.

"Hello, Colonel. I'd like you to see if 'Husker' is available," she purred in a sultry tone.

Tigh grinned smugly, glancing at his old friend as Adama picked up the other headset. "Available for what?"

"Let's just say it's classified," she responded.

The colonel chuckled, looking over at his CO again who, for the first time in several years, was blushing, and decidedly uncomfortable. "Just a minute," he told the admiral's wife. Then he turned to Adama. "You told her, didn't you?"

"She asked," Adama replied.

Tigh turned back to the headset. "Husker's right here."

"Did you have to do that?" Adama asked, not wanting to divulge to the entire CIC that he was talking to the president.

"I warned you. I usually follow through with my warnings," she mentioned.

He glanced back at the colonel, who was still smirking at him. "What's up?"

"Lee and Kara want to have lunch with me. They're on their way here and I decided that it was a good time to use your call sign while I waited," she replied. He could hear the smile in her voice.

"Wait 'til I find one for you. Two can play at this game," he remarked, causing her to giggle.

She was still giggling when Lee and Kara arrived. They had brought algae patties with them. "Hey Madame Prez," Kara greeted. "What's so funny?"

"I called CIC using the admiral's call sign, that's all," Roslin told her.

Kara grinned mischievously. "Something tells me that the colonel got a kick out of that."

"Indeed he did. Bill threatened to find me a call sign," Roslin added with a smile.

Lee chuckled. "And just when I thought things couldn't get any more interesting."

Kara rolled her eyes. "Wake up, Apollo. When aren't things interesting?"

"Good point," he remarked with a shrug as Kara set the plates down in front of them.

As they began eating the algae patties, Roslin asked, "What have you been up to lately, Kara?"

The younger woman smiled. "Oh, the usual: CAG duties, training sessions with clumsy nuggets, finding new ways to drive Lee crazy."

Roslin chuckled softly. "It's nice to see you've been making good use of your time."

Lee rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Fine, you two. Have a good laugh at my expense."

Kara shot him a wry smile. "Cone on, Apollo. Don't be such a wet blanket. I could be telling her about the time you lost your towel in the pilots' showers."

He sighed and shook his head. Then a mischievous glint appeared in his blue eyes. "Tell her that one and I'll mention that time you got plastered on whiskey and asked if the men's bathroom was a new strip club."

Roslin laughed heartily and after a moment, they joined her. Eventually she took a deep breath and felt herself capable of normal speech again. "Listening to the two of you is truly entertaining."

Kara grinned. "Glad we could oblige, Madame Prez."

The older woman returned to her half-eaten lunch. "You know something? These are actually good."

"They're one of the few dishes the mess hall makes that's better than shoe leather or engine grease," Kara replied.

"Thank goodness for small mercies," Roslin added wryly.

As they finished lunch, Lee's right hand moved from his fork to join Kara's left. "Do you think we should tell her now?"

Kara smiled back. "Sure."

Lee's gaze moved from Kara to Roslin. "Laura, last night I asked Kara to marry me and she said 'yes.'"

Roslin beamed. "Congratulations! Have you told your father yet?"

"We were going to tell him after his shift ends," Lee answered.

Adama came home later to find Roslin curled up on the couch, reading one of their favorite books. "I think that's the third time you've read that," he remarked.

Roslin looked up and grinned at him. _She's beautiful. I wonder how many more times I'll come home to something like this. I refuse to believe that this is temporary_. "Books are always better the third time through," she told him wryly. "How was your day?"

He smirked. "Do you mean before or after the phone call?"

She giggled. "I hope I didn't get you into too much trouble with Saul."

"I seem to be the target for his amusement lately. But I did consider a few call signs for you," Adama mentioned.

"Oh?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Walking over to his desk, he poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher that usually sat near his lamp. "I was considering 'Pandora' or 'Psyche.'"

"'Pandora?'" she asked incredulously.

He nodded. "You do tend to get yourself into trouble."

She set the book on the coffee table, placing her glasses on top of it. "But why 'Psyche?'"

"If memory serves me correctly, Psyche was too curious for her own good sometimes, though she loved her husband without seeing him first," he remarked with a smirk.

Crossing her arms, she managed to give him the 'over the glasses' look without her glasses. "What would have been wrong with 'Aphrodite?'"

"That's the one call sign that could get us both into a lot of trouble," he commented, sitting down next to her on the couch. "How was lunch with the kids?"

She grinned. "It was definitely interesting. They have something they want to tell you, so they'll probably come by later."

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "Something tells me that you already know what it is."

"Yes, but it's their news, not mine," she replied.

"So in other words I have no hope for coaxing it out of you," he deduced, sighing in mock defeat.

She let a giggly slip out. "My lips are sealed."

He slid a hand under her chin. "We'll see about that." In the next instant he was kissing her soundly. She laced her fingers in his hair, responding to the kiss. As he deepened the kiss, neither heard the hatch open.

"You two should lock the door if you're going to do that!" Lee blurted out.

Kara whacked him in the back of the head as the other two separated, blushing. "I told you we should've knocked."

Adama stood and Roslin sat up straighter, brushing invisible wrinkles from her skirt. The admiral cleared his throat. "Did you two need something?"

"Lee proposed last night and I accepted. I've decided to marry him, sir," Kara explained.

They two younger people watched the admiral expectantly. He looked at them stoically and for a brief moment, Roslin worried that he did not approve. Then he smiled. "It's nice to know that you've finally got your head on straight, son."

Everyone laughed and Lee wrapped an arm around Kara's waist. "I let her go too many times already. She's worth holding on to."

Roslin stood, gently grasping Adama's left arm. "They both are, son," the elder Adama mentioned. Lee and Kara left after sharing a drink with 'the parents.' As Roslin drifted off to sleep in Adama's arms, her mind drifted back to Life Station and she wondered how Cottle's two newest patients were doing.

On the next day, Sonya slowly sat up, wincing as Cottle moved toward her bed. "How do you feel this morning?"

"Uncomfortable for starters," she responded.

He gently lifted her arm and she spotted an injection pen in his other hand. "I'll give you something for the pain and you should feel better for a while."

She felt the click of the injection pen and the short, sharp puncture. Then the pain in her right side began to dissipate. "I'm glad that stuff works fast."

"As cranky as most of my patients are anyway, I'm inclined to agree with you," Cottle replied.

"So how long am I in for?" she probed as he put the injector into a plastic bag to get rid of later.

He turned back to her. "If you don't move too much and tear your stitches, I'd say another day and then you can be in standard quarters."

"What sort of movement are we talking about?" she inquired.

"Someone can help you into a wheelchair for a few things, but I don't want you walking anywhere," he explained.

She leaned back as a thought surfaced from the back of her mind. "How's Baltar?"

Cottle smirked. "I'm glad you mentioned him. He's recovering. Bullet missed his heart and just hit tissue. Somehow it managed to miss his spine too. Both of you got lucky. Yours only hit your appendix."

"Luck had nothing to do with it. It's called bad aim," she stated.

The white-haired doctor chuckled. "Maybe, but somehow both of you survived."

"Hey, how is the blonde Cylon?" she asked.

His brow furrowed. "I don't think she's going to come out of that coma. I've tried, but there was more damage than I'd originally reasoned."

"Somehow I knew you'd say that," she grumbled.

Dr. Cottle glanced over his shoulder to another curtained-off section. "Baltar, he'll wake up eventually, but he might wake faster if you talk to him."

Sonya stared at the doctor, wide-eyed. "Look, I don't have a bed-side manner, and he's the enemy."

Cottle snorted. "You really believe that? Bet you don't know that you talk in your sleep."

She frowned, not even remembering a dream. "I'm not responsible for what my subconscious mind wants to blurt out."

"Maybe not, but I still think you should go talk to him. I'll help you to the wheelchair myself," Cottle recommended.

"Do I get a choice?" she pursued.

"You keep asking about him. I just thought you'd want to see him," Cottle pointed out.

Sonya sighed. "Fine. I suppose it's better than sitting in bed staring at the wall."

Cottle helped her into the wheelchair and pushed her around to Baltar's bed. He was set up to be lying on his stomach, due to his injury. Having moved the wheelchair next to the bed, Cottle left her alone with him. She sat silently, watching him breath for a while, the rise and fall of his back underneath the bandage.

Then the words came. "I can't believe I'm doing this. Dr. Cottle says that if I talk to you, you'll wake up soon. I think it's a frakkin' waste of time, but he's the doctor."

She took a deep breath, one hand slowly reaching out to touch his hand. "I've… done some thinking. Big news, huh? The doctor says that Six- I mean Caprica probably won't wake up. Look, I am so sorry for that. I didn't understand it, her being a person as much as a machine. She's both and it's my fault that she won't wake up."

His hand moved under hers. "I… forgive you," he muttered as his head turned in her direction and his eyelids fluttered open.

She eyed him incredulously. "You forgive me? I put your girlfriend in a coma, and you forgive me?"

"Most people just say 'thank you,'" he told her.

Sonya moved her hand back to fold both hands in her lap. "I'm not most people."

"Obviously," he retorted.

"Why did you come back for me?" she questioned.

He took a deep, labored breath. "It was the right thing to do. No matter what you did, you didn't deserve to die like that."

She smirked and shook her head. "You surprise me, Baltar. And would you like to hear something interesting? I don't hate you anymore."

"I know. I don't hate you either," he conveyed.

"How are you feeling?" she inquired.

He closed his eyes for a moment. "Out of it and sore. You?"

"Sore. Here's something else you might find funny. Dr. Cottle tells me that the bullet hit my appendix. Of all the things to hit, it only landed in a nearly useless organ," she told him.

"It does have a use, but it's not vital. That's one you never threatened me with removing," he reminded her.

"That's because the Black Market would rather have kidneys," she remarked with a smirk.

Baltar took another labored breath and faced her again. "Did Dr. Cottle happen to tell you what my condition is?"

Sonya nodded. "He said you got lucky too. The bullet missed your heart and spine. I should've known that if you got yourself shot, of course you'd get one in the back, Dr. I-have-to-get-shot-worse-than-you-because-I-need-more-sympathy."

He chuckled slightly, but then winced. "That was funny, but it hurts to laugh."

She sighed, looking down at her hands. "What do you think will happen to us?"

"We'll either continue working in the lab for the admiral and the president, or we'll just end up as lab rats for someone else working for the admiral and the president," he replied.

It was her turn to laugh. "Ow. You're right, laughing hurts. Don't make me laugh."

Smirking, he decided to pester her further. "I think you're losing your touch. Isn't this the part where you're supposed to be threatening to remove my brain through my nostrils or something?"

She laughed again and smacked his arm. "Shut up, that hurts."

"Oh good, I was worried you'd hit your head. You've remained your usual cantankerous self," he retorted.

Cottle appeared and checked Baltar's IV. "Alright you two, comedy hour's over for a while."

"Pity. I was just getting to the good insults," Baltar remarked.

The doctor walked around to Sonya's wheelchair as she decided to sneak the last word in. "Actually, I believe I was winning."

After Sonya had been resettled in her bed, Cottle headed back to his office to rearrange a few folders scattered across his desk. A moment later, one of the nurses rushed back to him. "What's wrong now?" he grumbled.

"Major, the admiral and the president are here," she told him.

He quickly stood and walked over to them. "What happened?"

"She woke up feeling nauseous. We were hoping you might have something," Adama informed him.

Roslin looked decidedly pale and Cottle walked her over to a bed. Then he checked her pulse while Adama pulled a chair up next to the bed. The doctor took a blood sample and left the two for a moment. When he returned, Adama noticed the grim look in his eyes. "Bill."

Adama stood, but only moved to the foot of the bed as Roslin rested. "What is it?"

Cottle looked down and sighed before facing the admiral again. "Her vital organs have begun to shut down. We're talking about the possibility of liver and kidney failure within the next few days."

The doctor hated to face the disappointment and anguish in those blue eyes. Adama sighed heavily and looked back at Roslin. "We can't give up. It's not fair to her."

"Is it any more fair to keep her if she's ready and it's her time? We both know she's in pain," Cottle mentioned.

Adama shook his head adamantly. "I will not give up on her."

"I'm gonna check the inventory list for a dialysis machine," Cottle stated, heading back to his office.

He shuffled through the papers on his desk, looking for the inventory list. In his rush to find something to help Roslin, a folder fell off his desk and onto the floor. As he picked it up, his eyes scanned the page that it had fallen open to. His eyes widened and he re-read the page. "It can't be. Was it really right in front of me the whole time?" Taking the folder with him, he grabbed a tourniquet and the syringe and bag kit usually reserved for patients donating blood.

Cottle dashed out of the office, back to Adama and Roslin. He hated interrupting the scene before him, the admiral holding the president's hand as he leaned one elbow on her bed. But there was no time for what had to be done. Cottle hurried over and placed a hand on the admiral's shoulder. "You have to come with me."

Adama shot him the infamous 'glare.' "Whatever it is can wait."

Cottle shook his head. "No, it can't."

He glanced back at Roslin, whose eyes had closed in a light nap. "I'm not going anywhere. I want to be here when she wakes up."

"There isn't time to explain, not here. You have to come with me now," the doctor insisted.

Seeing the look of urgency in the old major's face, Adama sighed and stood. "What's this all about?"

Cottle led him over to an empty bed. "A chance to save her, I hope."

(My thanks to Calico Star, Ionel, Mariel3, carolann, voodooDRUG, and max72 for reviewing :D)


	28. The precipice of hope

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.

Chapter 28: The precipice of hope

"I need a pint of your blood," Dr. Cottle told the admiral.

"How will that help?" Adama inquired.

Cottle sterilized the needle he would be using. "I should've seen it sooner. Your blood type is what we call a universal donor, which means you can donate blood to anybody. With all the oddities floating around in your blood, it might help her."

"And if it doesn't?" the admiral inquired, unbuttoning his uniform top.

"Then at least we've tried," the doctor responded.

"Let's do it then," Adama stated as Cottle tied the tourniquet around his arm.

Later while Adama had been giving a vitamin supplement to drink after having blood taken, Cottle prepared Roslin for a blood transfusion. "Jack, what are you doing?" she mumbled.

"Getting you some blood," he replied, tying the tourniquet around her left arm.

She sat up slightly. "What exactly it that supposed to help?"

Not wanting to get her hopes up, he simply told her "It'll give your blood some better nutrients than the other mixture I gave you."

His quick explanation seemed to satisfy her, or so he thought as she remained quiet for a moment. But then she stopped his hand before he could insert the needle. "Jack, what aren't you telling me? And where is Bill?"

"Right here," Adama replied, stepping out from behind the other curtain, back in his uniform top, saving Cottle from explaining anything further. "And I intend to stay until he's finished."

"Bill, what's going on?" she questioned, scrutinizing his face as he sat in the chair next to her bed.

He took her right hand in his. "Jack thinks this particular blood sample might help more than others."

"What do you think?" she probed, her eyes never leaving his face.

"I think you should let him do his job. There's a chance that you'll feel better," Adama replied, looking from her to Cottle.

She sighed. "Fine, but afterward you owe me a better explanation."

Cottle finished setting up the translation and Adama told her a few stories of his flight school days. The tone of his voice lulled her into relaxing as they waited for it to finish. By the time the transfusion was completed, she had drifted back to sleep again.

"How soon will we know if it worked?" Adama whispered to Cottle.

The doctor cleaned up his supplies. "I'd give it at least two hours. Just let her rest and maybe her body will start picking up the slack."

"I don't like this. She doesn't sleep this much," the admiral replied.

"She probably needs it. I'll be around later to check on her. If she wakes up, you know which button to push," Cottle remarked, pointing to the call button hooked to the cord, sitting on the bed within easy reach of any patient.

While he waited for her to wake, Adama called CIC twice to see if there was any news. Much to his relief, it sounded like a slow day. He turned back to Roslin and resumed his vigil. Cottle looked back on them once in a while. Oddly enough, in the doctor's estimated two hours, she blinked and smiled, seeing Adama holding her hand.

"Hey," she stated.

His focus had been on her hand more than her face. At hearing her voice, he suddenly looked up at her. "Laura, how are you feeling?"

She slowly moved to sit up straight instead of propped up against the pillows and then swung her legs over the edge of the bed. "I feel better than I've felt in a long time."

A warm smile radiated from him as he sat next to her on the bed. "That's good."

He leaned in to kiss her. She allowed it once, but then put a hand on his chest. "What exactly did you and Jack do?"

Hearing his name, Cottle walked over to them. "I gave you some of Bill's blood."

"Why?" she inquired as her eyebrows shot up.

Adama folded his hands in his lap. "First, apparently my blood type can go to anybody. It's the 'universal donor' type. And second, Jack thought that will all the anomalies in my blood, it might help your immune system."

"I'll need to do another blood test and a few X-rays," Cottle mentioned.

Roslin and Adama waited for the test results. Suddenly they heard the doctor say, "I don't believe this."

"Did it work?" Roslin probed.

Cottle sighed, facing the other two. "Now, I don't want you to get your hopes up. It didn't cure you, but on the bright side it might've bought you at least another six months, if the blood metabolizes."

Roslin and Adama exchanged smiles. "This is good news. Now, I appreciate what you two did, but don't even think about doing anything like that again without telling me all of it," she instructed.

"Yes, Madame President. Of course, Madame President," Adama replied with a youthful grin.

She swatted his arm playfully. "I didn't know you were that desperate to sleep on the couch."

"Only if you're joining me," he whispered in her ear, kissing her neck.

Cottle rolled his eyes. "If I didn't think that keeping her here for observation for today was necessary, I'd send you two home right now. The last thing I need is my nurses walking by and passing out after listening to the two of you."

Roslin sighed and looked over at Cottle. "How much longer am I here for then?"

"I want you here for at least another six hours. I need to see if the new blood is metabolized," he informed them.

Adama's brow furrowed. "Are you saying there's a chance that everything could backslide and she'd be in the same state she was in two hours ago?"

The doctor sighed heavily. "Blood by itself takes about two or three hours, but I'm trying to see if the extra affects I saw will last."

Roslin placed a hand over Adama's forearm, seeing the worry etched in his face. "It's a precaution. You need to get over to CIC. I'll be fine here. If you could just send Tory by, I would appreciate it."

He smiled calmly and leaned in to brush her lips with his. "You're right. I'll call in a few hours."

She watched him stand before adding one last thing. "Before you go, would you check on Dr. Felds sometime today please?"

"Of course," he said with a nod.

Watching him leave, she sighed, looking forward to his return. Out of the corner of her eye, she realized that Cottle was still standing nearby. She turned and noticed a smirk on his face. As he left to make other rounds, her head found the pillow for roughly ten minutes, until Tory appeared.

"Madame President, how are you?" she asked politely.

Roslin smiled. "I'm better, thank you. What's on our schedule for today?"

Tory raised an eyebrow. "Ma'am, I thought you'd be leaving more things with Lee Adama."

The president sat up, folding her hands in her lap. "I'm ill, not incapacitated."

For a brief moment, the aide almost blushed with embarrassment. "What would you like to discuss then, Madame President?"

Roslin reached for her glasses that had been discarded on the table near her bed. "You and I need to have a word with Miss Getani. Would you find Dr. Cottle and help me with it?"

"Certainly," Tory responded.

Cottle grumbled about Roslin not resting, but acquiesced, considering that she did agree to remain in Life Station a while longer. Sonya sat up, noticing that she had visitors. "Madame President, should I ask 'to what honor,' or should the question be 'what have I done this time?'"

Roslin smirked. "No one's in trouble today. It's come to my attention that there is still one more code to be tested on a Cylon. We've concluded that it should be tested on the man calling himself Nigel Gorgon."

The doctor scowled. "As you can see, my patient is in no condition to go off fiddling with science experiments. I hope you thought of a backup plan."

Sonya put up a hand. "Dr. Cottle, I can speak for myself. Though it is true that I'm to remain here until my stitches heal, I can tell you two how it can be done."

"Go ahead, please," Roslin responded.

Tory took notes as Sonya explained the basic programming and input sequences, regarding the last code. Then the president decided to call the admiral. Hearing the phone ring, he picked it up. "Adama."

"Bill, I need you to go to the lab. If the guards can bring the fifth Cylon, then you, along with Tory and Jack, can figure out what the last code does," she informed him.

Despite the use of his first name, he knew that she was in president-mode. "I'll get right on it, Madame President. Was there anything else?"

"Yes. What's our jump status?" she inquired.

"We should be jumping in two hours. How are you feeling?"

She smiled at his concern. "I feel alright. I'm going stir-crazy though."

"I'm sure Jack means well. I'll be at the lab. Take care, Laura," he finished.

"You too, Bill," she said before hanging up her end.

Adama met Cottle and Tory in front of the lab after calling the brig. The three entered while they waited for Nigel Gorgon. "Now I've got a feeling he isn't going to make this easy. Tory, if things get violent, it's probably best if you don't stick around," Adama cautioned.

She nodded. "Alright, sir."

The two guards from the brig appeared shortly, accompanied by two marines, all four of them with their guns trained on Nigel Gorgon. As he was led into the lab, the Cylon looked back at the admiral. "What is this then? Some new form of torture? Why Admiral, you didn't seem like the type."

"We're not going to torture you. We need answers that can only come from a Cylon," Adama responded.

Tory stepped toward the device that Baltar and Sonya had built. "Your hand please."

Nigel looked from her to the admiral, and then to the marines and guards. "If you think I'm just going to roll over and be your lab rat, you're mistaken."

Adama spoke to the marines. "Hold his arms."

As they seized him, Nigel sputtered, "I have rights!"

"I don't think so. You're a...," Adama trailed off, spotting Tory and changing what he was about to say, "criminal in the Black Market. You aren't going anywhere."

Nigel struggled against his captors, almost pushing one of them into the table in front of him, scooting a clipboard and pen a few inches to the left. "I know what's going on. This is Sonny Jets' doing, isn't it? If she's alive, tell her she's finished in the Black Market."

One marine jammed Nigel's right hand into the chemical jell that Sonya had devised as Tory began to access the computer. Cottle stood off to the side to watch for any sudden fainting or spasms that might occur from the use of the unexplored code. "We're ready, sir," Tory stated, peering back at the admiral.

He nodded. "Do it."

Tory first typed in the general access code. Like the Six, Nigel suddenly stood still, becoming open to the computer. Cottle raised an eyebrow. "Why didn't you just use the data port sticking out of his arm?"

"He would have been able to block us out," Tory answered before inputting the final code.

Just like the self-destruct code, the new code only presented 'yes' or 'no' boxes. "Sir?" Tory looked back for confirmation. With another nod from the admiral, she selected the 'yes' box.

A single phrase flashed across the screen, leaving her, the admiral, and the doctor staring at it, wide-eyed: Final Five Initiative Activated. Then something completely unexpected happened.

While the Six had remained initially motionless for the codes, Nigel's hands suddenly broke free of the marines, but stopped directly in front of him. His eyes blinked and his right hand, still dripping from the solution, grabbed the pen while his left studied the clipboard that the marine had bumped into earlier. He began to scribble down a binary code sequences furiously.

Then, just as quickly as he had moved, he stopped and returned to his earlier position, reinserting his right hand into the gel. "Now what?" Cottle inquired.

"I would assume we have to exit the program somehow. When the other Cylon was here, she passed out before we could shut things down correctly," the admiral added.

Tory studied the setup for a moment. "I think all we have to do is power down the computer, not disconnecting, but just letting it go through the normal shutdown sequence."

"I think you're all crazy, messing around with their heads like this. None of us really understand this. If this works right, we'll all be lucky," Cottle grumbled.

The aide used the shutdown sequence and they waited. After the computer had turned itself off, Nigel blinked and jerked his hand out of the solution. Half a second later, the marines grabbed hold of him. "What the hell was that?"

Answers were the last thing that Tory was planning on giving him. "What do you remember?"

"These thugs," he inclined his head toward the marines, "were holding me. Then everything went black. Now I'm here again, and I know something happened. What did you do to me?"

Adama was about to answer, but Cottle stepped forward with an idea. "We were testing a new Cylon detector to see if it was quicker and more efficient than the old one. You're definitely a Cylon."

Nigel looked at the three incredulously and shook his head. "There must be something wrong with you people if you have to ask that after seeing the data port in my arm."

"Take him back to the brig," the admiral directed.

The Cylon squirmed and struggled unsuccessfully. "If I were you, I'd watch my back, Admiral. People, or life forms, like me do have friends," Nigel warned.

After he had gone, Cottle snorted. "I don't see why you want him in the brig. I was expecting you to airlock him."

The admiral sighed heavily. "He's one of the Final Five, which means that until we reach Earth, he could be important."

Tory, Adama, and Cottle then headed back to Life Station to find Roslin. Her head shot up as they neared the bed that she had sat down on. "What did you find?"

"Aside from the fact that Mr. Gorgon thinks that he actually has power, the last code is called the 'Final Five Initiative.' Once it was activated, he wrote this," Tory explained, showing her the binary code from the clipboard.

"Since the code was for the Final Five, it might be that all five of them have this initiative," Adama suggested.

Roslin raised an eyebrow. "Did it seem to you like it was safe enough for the others to try?"

He nodded. "We ended it by taking the computer down with its normal shutdown sequence."

She crossed her arms, thinking for a moment. "Alright, and then we can sort out what the new binary code is."

"First, I need to head back to CIC and start the jump," Adama mentioned.

"Don't forget about Dr. Felds," Roslin reminded.

Adama smiled. "She's on my way." Then he stepped closer to his wife, grasping her hands in his. "How are you feeling, Laura?"

She smiled warmly. "I still feel better. I can't wait to get out of here."

"Only a few more hours," Cottle told them. "Then I want you to promise me that you're going to rest for a while."

Roslin rolled her eyes. "But I've been resting in here!"

The doctor shook his head. "You've been on the phone, and then going over files."

She reluctantly nodded. Then Tory and Adama left. He knocked on Abigail's door on the way to CIC. The linguist opened it and smiled politely. "Hello, Admiral Adama."

"Hello, Dr. Felds. I figured that you might want to join us as we work with the new jump sequences," he remarked.

"That would be fine," she replied.

As they entered CIC, Abigail requested to speak with the chancellor before the ship jumped. Adama once again led her to his office and waited. "_Dr. Baldwin, it's nice to see you again. Tell me, how are things there?"_ Chancellor Byron asked.

"_I'm quite well, thank you_," she answered.

Byron folded his hands on his desk and paused. "_Have you run into any further complications_?"

She shook her head. "_Things are progressing here, but we are fine. Have you learned anything more on Chesterton and his plans_?"

The chancellor sighed heavily. "_Public opinion from the other governments, since I've had to inform them of the recent developments, is in agreement with me, that he is mistaken in trying to wage a war against a people that we have little knowledge of. However, he still has a great deal of support from people in the economic sector. He will fight, of that I have no doubt_."

"_I understand. I'll tell them_," she ended.

Adama saw the frown on her face as she left his office. "How did it go?"

"Chancellor Byron says to be ready for a fight. Chesterton is not backing down," Abigail replied.

The admiral glanced at his crew and then back to her. "Then at least we're prepared."

As the fleet prepared to jump, making radio contact through the satellite system with the other two thirds, the linguist watched the admiral, debating if she ought to ask her question. "I meant to ask before. You said the president is dying. Do you mind if I ask what she's dying of?" Abigail inquired.

"Cancer," Adama answered flatly, only looking at the viewscreen.

Abigail raised an eyebrow. "Is that all?"

Adama dealt her the most terrifying glare that she had ever seen. "Excuse me?"

She put up her hands in defense. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't making light of it. My people have cured it. Do you mean that yours haven't?"

He shook his head. "How have your people managed that?"

"If she can make it to Saturn Station, they can place her in a cellular regeneration unit. It purges harmful cells from the body and grows new, healthy cells," the linguist explained.

Though he retained his stoic façade on the outside, he was grinning inwardly at the hope she had just given him as their third of the fleet jumped. For a moment, space looked quiet. But then the Cylons appeared, shooting as soon as they noticed the Colonials. Adama and the other ships quickly jumped back to their previous location.

"Try one of the other coordinate set," Adama told Gaeta. The fleet jumped again and found Cylons.

Realizing that the coordinates were of no help this time, Adama suggested that Abigail and Gaeta should look over the coordinates again and find another route. After Abigail found a more straightforward path, Adama decided to call a meeting with Lee, Zarek, and Roslin.

"Somehow they know what we're doing. And these aren't the supposedly friendly Cylons. These are shooting at us," Adama explained.

"I think we have to face the fact that we'll be fighting them, not matter what," Zarek mentioned. "Perhaps it's time to stop running."

Roslin looked at Adama, and then Lee. "What do you think, Mr. President?"

Lee folded his hands in front of him, much as his father did. "Ma'am, I think he's right. They're looking for a fight and they're not going to leave us alone until they get it."

"Admiral? This is your call," she relayed.

His eyes zeroed in on the chain sticking out past her shirt collar. "We've got a few hours before everyone's ready to jump again. I'll give you my decision then."

"That's fine. In the meantime though, would you check on the lab?" she requested.

He nodded, knowing what she was referring to. "I'll get right on it, Madame President."

Cottle and Tory waited in the lab with Anders and Tyrol. When Adama arrived, he called Tigh to join them. One by one, the Final Five Initiative was activated in all of them, Cottle performing the programming when it was Tory's turn. Adama and Tigh then headed back to CIC while Anders and Tyrol returned to their duties and Tory returned to Life Station, accompanied by Cottle.

The aide entered and headed straight for the president. "Ma'am, I have the codes, all five of them," she stated, handing Roslin a folder.

Roslin's eyes scanned them. "Thank you, Tory. I think it's time we had another chat with Miss Getani."

She stood from the bed, looking toward Cottle. "After you talk to her, just let me check your blood again and get another X-ray. Then you can leave."

The president nodded and wandered toward Sonya's bed. She cleared her throat, seeing that the other woman was reading a book. Sonya looked up. "Madame President, did your plans work?"

"Yes, but I was hoping that you could interpret these," Roslin remarked, handing the folder to Sonya.

The other woman flipped through them, squinting at the lines of binary code. She took a deep breath and looked up at the president. "Something's off. Do they go in any particular order?"

Roslin looked down at the papers, raising an eyebrow. "I wouldn't know where to begin. This is so…" she trailed off, recalling her vision regarding the codes and the Final Five. Closing her eyes for a moment, she visualized the scene from the boardroom. Tory was seated next to her on the left, then it was Tigh, followed by Tyrol, Anders, and Nigel.

Opening her eyes, she moved the code pages around, remembering who had done what. Comprehension splashed in Sonya's eyes as she studied the different arrangement. "You did it. I can't tell you exactly what it does, but it's big. If you give me a few more hours, I might be able to give you a general idea though."

Roslin nodded, then sought out Cottle. He performed the blood test and X-ray as she kept looking at her watch. She waited for the results, knees crossed, sitting on the bed again. At last she spotted him. He did not face her and his expression looked grim. Her stomach suddenly tightened in apprehension.

"Well?" she asked.

Slowly he faced her, noticing the worry in her eyes. "You can stop panicking. Your results are the same as they were after the blood transfusion." Then he smiled. "Now get out. I expect you to rest."

She grinned and nodded, but headed in the direction of CIC as soon as she left Life Station. Roslin entered CIC quietly, looking to her right on the upper deck to see Gaeta talking to Abigail. On the lower deck toward the middle, her husband had his back to her as he discussed some of the issues with the colonel.

Quietly she crept up behind him, catching Tigh's eye for a moment. The colonel smirked in amusement as Roslin put a hand on Adama's back. Though he had not heard her, the admiral's reaction time had not lost much over the years. He had turned suddenly and grabbed her wrist.

"Did Cottle let you out, or did you sneak out?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He let me out, but he thinks I'm resting," she answered, moving her hand so that instead of him holding her wrist, she was squeezing his hand.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered that they were still in CIC and that decorum might be a good idea. "And yet here you are."

She grinned. "Mmhm. My place is right here with you, where all the action is. I've been stuck in Life Station all day."

He sighed in mock annoyance. "Alright, Madame President. You can stay, but I insist that you sit while you're here."

As she followed his suggestion, he kissed her hand when he thought no one was looking. Abruptly the phone rang. He moved to answer it. "Adama."

"Is this a secure line?" the gruff voice belonging to Cottle asked.

"It is now," the admiral responded.

"Good. Now tell that wife of yours to go get some rest! I know where she is," Cottle demanded.

At Adama's slightly irritated expression, Roslin had an idea who was on the other line. "Let me talk to him, Bill," she requested, extending a hand.

He handed the phone to her. She held it to her ear, crossing her knees and resting one arm on the table, as if having a casual conversation with an old friend. "Jack, I'm fine, I'm sitting down at the moment, and I'm not going anywhere."

After a pausing on Cottle's end, he sighed. "Just don't exert yourself. I know you feel better, but you still need to be careful."

Then both ends of the phone hung up. She looked up at Adama with a weary smile. "That man is infuriating sometimes."

"He's only looking out for you," Adama responded, turning his gaze back to Abigail and Gaeta.

The linguist stood and walked over to the admiral. "We have new coordinates. Our next move should take us close to Saturn Station."

He accepted the paper that she handed him. "Alright. We'll see how this goes," he stated before reaching for the wireless. "This is Admiral Adama, prepare to jump."

One by one, the ships blinked out of one part of space, and then into the next. Gaeta stared at his console. "Admiral, sir, we have a new solar system configuration. I'm looking at eight, possibly nine planets, revolving around a single star."

"Welcome to the Milky Way Galaxy," Abigail informed them.

Roslin reached over and rested a hand on top of Adama's. "We're finally here, Bill."

He smiled warmly at her. "Yes, we are."

One sentence shattered the moment though. "I'm picking up a base star on the DRADIS!" Dee informed them.

"Frak! More of them just showed up!" Tigh observed.

"Weren't some of them supposedly on our side?" Abigail inquired, recalling Kara's report from her conversation with the man had called 'Leoben.'

"Whether that's true or not, it looks like we're in for a fight this time," Adama realized.

(My thanks to Calico Star, The Breeze, carolann, Ceridwyn2, kappaomega, darth rat, voodooDRUG, max72, and Maud for reviewing :D)


	29. Judgment Day

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel. Episodes "Six of One" and "Faith" from Season 4 are alluded to. I've reposted this chapter in hopes that the ending doesn't get cut this time.

Chapter 29: Judgment Day

Both baseships seemed to hesitate, just sitting in space. "What do you think they're waiting for?" Roslin asked Adama.

The admiral sighed, watching the viewscreen. "They're probably trying to see if the other one is bluffing."

A door opening off to the side signaled Tory's entrance. "Dr. Cottle said I would find you here, Madame President," the younger woman mentioned, almost out of breath.

"It's good to see you, Tory," the president responded.

Abigail leaned over the table to watch the viewscreen as well. In the distance she spotted a few specks moving closer to the group. Dee called to the admiral. "Sir, some other ships just showed up on DRADIS."

"Raiders?" he inquired.

She shook her head. "I don't know what they are, but they don't register as any of our ships, or anything belonging to the Cylons."

"General Chesterton has arrived," Abigail grumbled.

"So this is what Judgment Day looks like," Roslin remarked, invoking Leoben's words.

"Sir, those other ships are charging weapons," Dee informed them.

Adama turned to Abigail. "Let me see if I can talk to him," the linguist requested.

The admiral gave a short nod and they searched for the right hailing frequency. "_General Chesterton, this is Abigail Felds. These people mean us no harm. Stand down and stay out of their conflict. This isn't our fight_."

To her surprise, he did respond. "_Dr. Felds, so you've survived. That only means one thing: you've turned tail on us. Traitors don't live long, doctor. I've no intention of backing down_."

A crackle signaled the end of his transmission. "So what do we do now?" Tigh asked Abigail.

"In his mind, he's defending the planet against a hostile invasion. He may be more of a problem than your Cylons," she replied.

Chesterton's ships began firing at both baseships and Galactica. "Whatever we do, we'd better do fast," Tigh added.

Roslin squeezed Adama's hand. "Bill, the codes. We need to send the codes."

The admiral nodded. "That means we need two people though: Getani and Mr. Gorgon. With that data port he has, he's the only way that we can send a signal to them."

"Madame President, will you be alright?" Tory inquired politely.

Roslin sighed, glancing at the DRADIS. "My personal discomfort will take a back seat for the good of the fleet then," she said quietly.

Adama called the brig first, knowing that it would be easier to request a prisoner than a patient. He knew to expect some difficulty when he called Cottle. "Jack, we need Getani up here. We're under attack and she's the one who can use the codes best. I know she's still recovering, but this is an emergency situation."

"With all due respect Bill, are you out of your minds? If she moves too much, I'll have to redo her stitches," Cottle protested.

"Then you can accompany her and see that she doesn't move much," the admiral told him.

"I don't like this one bit. I'm the one in charge of my Life Station. I'll go with you on this, but only because we're under attack," Cottle acquiesced before hanging up.

The doctor turned to the bed where Sonya sat, reading. "They need me, don't they?" she asked as he neared her.

"We're under attack and they think you'd be our best help at the moment," Cottle explained.

Baltar had overhead the conversation from his bed, which had been moved closer to Sonya's due to a problem with equipment placement for another patient. "So much for surviving. We could still end up dead by the end of this," he remarked.

Sonya rolled her eyes, but smirked. "Your confidence in me is touching. If I don't come back, I hope they ask for you next, with or without your spine."

He snickered. "Unfortunately, you'll be back. And then you can gloat at me while I try to come up with some better insults."

"Alright you two, let's go," Cottle ordered gruffly, helping Sonya into the wheelchair.

When she reached CIC, panic swelled in Sonya's stomach at the sight of Nigel. He had not seen her yet, as armed marines surrounded him. She swallowed her apprehension as Cottle moved the wheelchair closer to the console. "Well, shall we being?" she asked, looking from the admiral to the president.

"Just need to plug him in," Tigh commented, watching Adama clench a fist at the realization of establishing a network again.

As Nigel's data port became linked to the system, he turned and spotted Sonya. "Sonny Jets, so you're still alive. Admiral, she'll turn tail on you. I never realized how good she ways at playing sides."

"I need the codes," Sonya stated, ignoring Nigel. Tory handed her the folder.

"I never hurt you, Sonny. I gave you everything. Everything! And you just turned your back on all of it! For what?" Nigel demanded.

Sonya looked over at him. "Because for once the cost of what you were doing wasn't one I was willing to pay with you. The price was Earth. Frankly I don't really have much of a personal stake in Earth, but these people do, and what you were doing was wrong."

Nigel glared at her. "You've changed."

"Let's just say I've met some new friends who taught me that my life matters more than I thought it did," she said evenly.

Roslin neared her as the ship rocked again. "You need to deal with your personal issues later. We're in the middle of a battle and I don't think anybody outside is going to wait for you."

Sonya looked over at the woman, understanding the authority that this woman held. "Yes, Ma'am."

As soon as she inputted the first code, Nigel became still and ceased to bother her. Repeating the code as quickly as possible while the computers were networked, Sonya sent the signal to the Cylon ships, who immediately stopped firing. "Which ones do you want me to use?" Sonya inquired.

Roslin turned toward Adama. "You're the Guardian. I think you should be the one to decide what codes we use."

"Start with the one that takes out their programming," he suggested.

The woman in the wheelchair complied, letting the code first pass through Nigel and then waiting. Chesterton's ships seemed confused by the sudden lack of combat, deciding to hold their positions. Then Adama told Sonya to use the code that disables the Cylons' resurrection abilities.

As Sonya looked to him for further instruction, he sighed heavily, knowing what code was next. Roslin faced him. "What are we waiting for?"

"We can't send that code. It's unethical," he told her.

She crossed her arms. "Bill, this could be a chance to finally get rid of the Cylons. We were here before and the opportunity slipped through our fingers."

He shook his head feeling the weight of responsibility that his role as Guardian had become. "My position on this is the same as it was then. Genocide doesn't fix genocide."

"They'll just keep coming back to find us again. This has to end here," she argued.

"Not like that. It was wrong then, and it's wrong now. As difficult as it is sometimes, our ethics make us human," he responded.

Roslin looked him in the eyes and studied him for a moment. Then she moved to sit back down. "Alright, it's your call."

"We're not using that code. Let's find out what the Final Five Initiative is supposed to do," the admiral told Sonya.

She typed in the code and waited for something to appear on her screen, as it usually did with the other codes. This time there was no box. As soon as she typed the final binary notation, the signal was sent. A textual message appeared on her screen and she read it aloud: "You have opted for mercy, therefore mercy shall be granted to you."

The two baseships suddenly disappeared. "What happened?" Roslin asked.

"I've got a second message," Sonya informed them. "Cylons will no longer be able to scan for humans. Humans will not appear on their sensors. Any territory occupied by humans will appear as a black hole to them."

"They can't see us," Roslin remarked.

Adama nodded at her observation, but then stood perfectly still as he heard a slight buzzing sound, accompanied with the sound of something small losing power. He felt the back of his neck, realizing that only he could hear the sound. Roslin raised a concerned eyebrow.

"It's off now," Adama stated, referring to the tracking device.

"That's good not know," she told him reassuringly. "It's probably programmed to shut off when it's served its purpose.

"There's one more thing. This code is not applicable on the individual level. It means that my old boss here will still know that we exist," Sonya deduced as she began shutting down the program.

No one realized that Nigel was blinking immediately after the shutdown sequence had begun, disconnecting himself. Suddenly Nigel kicked one of the marines out of his way. Before anyone could react, Nigel bent down and grabbed the sidearm from another the marine's boot. He aimed it at Sonya as the rest of the security team trained their weapons on him. A single shot was fired before Nigel fell to the ground, due to the five subsequent shots that followed.

Abigail placed a hand over her mouth and gasped at the scene. "I wish you'd all just put your guns down. Is all this violence really necessary?"

However, few people processed the linguist's words over Roslin's grief-stricken shriek. Sonya could only blink in amazement as she looked down at the body of the president's aide. Blood leaked out from Tory's chest as the president raced to her side. "Deities, why? Why would you do this?"

Tory had reacted faster than even Nigel and pushed Sonya out of the way, wheelchair and all. Cottle rested a hand on Roslin's shoulder as she cradled Tory's head in her lap. "I'm sorry Laura. She's gone."

"A sacrifice," Roslin whispered. "Leoben said that a personal sacrifice would be required of me. Oh Tory. I'm so sorry."

Adama gently touched Roslin's shoulders and pulled her to her feet as the security team removed the bodies of Nigel and Tory. "I'm so sorry, Laura," he whispered.

She grasped Adama's arm. "What now, Bill?"

He looked over at Tigh. "Have we heard anything from the Cylons?"

Tigh tore his eyes from Tory. "They're gone. But those other ships are headed our way."

"I'll see if I can talk to him again," Abigail interjected.

"Maybe with the Cylons gone, he'll listen," Adama commented.

The linguist waited patiently for the hailing signal while the rest of CIC prepared for what could be another battle. "_General Chesterton, the enemy has left. Please stand down so we can discuss this. Chancellor Byron has already given his permission for these people to proceed to Saturn Station_," she told the general.

"_Byron has no concept of security. I believe you and I are done here_," Chesterton replied, cutting off the transmission.

"Why that pompous jerk!" Abigail complained.

"Well? Do we fire on them or not?" Tigh probed.

Adama shook his head. "No one moves until they fire first."

Chesterton's ships were moving closer as other dots on the DRADIS seemed to join them. "Sir, we've got more ships coming," Gaeta stated.

The linguist carefully watched the viewscreen. "I can't believe that he has that many ships to- wait a minute!" She placed both hands on the table and leaned forward. "Look at the markings on the front. Chesterton's group is completely gray, at least in the front. The other ships have blue markings."

"What does that mean?" Roslin inquired.

Abigail smiled. "It means that the United Coalition Security Collaboration has sent a few ships to help."

"Sir, they're hailing us," Dee mentioned.

Adama glanced back toward her. "Put them through."

"_This is General Reginald Vesper of the U.C.S.C. Is Dr. Felds there_?" the man requested.

A broad grin spread over Abigail's face. "_I'm right here, and terribly glad that you have decided to join us_."

"_We're offering our assistance on behalf of Chancellor Byron and the rest of the U.C.S.C. We were specifically asked to take your group to Saturn Station_."

"_Then you have arrived just in time. What will you do with Chesterton_?" Abigail inquired.

"_Surround his group and arrest him_."

On the DRADIS, it was easy to watch one fleet encircle the other. A few ships from Chesterton's fleet took shots at the others. "I apologize for the idiots who are following the general," Abigail whispered to the admiral.

He recalled Admiral Cain as he replied, "Every fleet has some."

The U.C.S.C. ships fired at the propulsion systems of the ships that had shot back. Once the ships were immobile, tow lines shot out from the U.C.S.C. ships and clamped onto them. They were led away, with the other gray ships following them. One of the ships with blue markings remained behind, heading toward _Galactica_ as another transmission crackled to life.

"_Chesterton has surrendered. I will lead your group over to Saturn Station_," General Vesper informed them.

Abigail moved over to the wireless. "_General, will the chancellor be available to meet them_?"

"_He will speak with them after they've passed medical clearance_," the other man replied.

The linguist looked back toward Adama and Roslin. "Well Madame President, Admiral Adama? Is that alright with you?"

The president smiled and looked over at the admiral. "If there are no further interruptions, I believe this trip is long overdue."

He grinned at her. "Absolutely, as soon as we make sure that the Cylons aren't just hiding somewhere. Shall I inform the other two thirds of the fleet?"

"By all means. I'm sure they'll be delighted to learn that the Cylons shouldn't be a problem anymore," Roslin answered.

The admiral glanced back toward the lieutenant. "I want one more full scan first. Mr. Gaeta…"

"I'm on it, sir," the younger man replied.

A collective sigh passed over everyone in CIC when Gaeta informed them that there was no sign of the Cylons. After talking with the rest of the fleet, Adama turned his third of it toward Saturn Station. Roslin rested a hand on his forearm while Cottle left the room, wheeling Sonya back to Life Station.

"Before we arrive, there's something I need to do," she whispered.

He saw the sadness in her eyes. "It's about Tory, isn't it?" She nodded slowly and he spoke again. "It's alright. Go."

Roslin quietly left CIC and did not stop walking until she arrived at the morgue. Two forms lay covered on the tables. She headed to the form that was decidedly female and pulled back the sheet to reveal the face. Tears slid down her eyes as she looked upon her aide, pale and lifeless.

"I don't know if I ever properly thanked you for all the things you've done for me. I'm sorry it ended this way. You've come so far. And to just have it come to a halt, Tory what were you thinking? You had so much ahead of you," Roslin lamented, brushing tears from her cheeks before arranging Tory's hair. _Am I supposed to keep losing my aides? First Billy, then Maya, and now you_. With a heavy sigh, she left the morgue, heading toward the quarters she shared with the admiral.

Adama had left Tigh in charge of CIC, deciding to look for Roslin before they arrived at their destination. Seeing that she was not in the morgue, he headed toward their quarters. When he arrived, he found her sitting on the couch with a steaming cup of tea. "We should be there in a few hours," he told her as she watched him near the couch.

She nodded, but remained quiet, sipping her tea. He gently rested a hand on her knee. "I'm sorry about Tory."

"So am I," she paused to set her teacup down on the coffee table. "Bill, why is it that my aides keep dying? Billy, Maya, and Tory, they all died violently."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her to him for a hug. "None of which was ever your fault. Circumstances happen that you can't control, which means that it's not your fault. You taught me that."

Turning to look up at him, she gave him a small smile. "It's nice to see you've learned something from me then."

He smirked, seeing the teacher in her again. "I've learned quite a bit from you."

She frowned though. "Do you think I'm cursed?"

Adama scoffed. "I don't believe in curses."

"Ah yes, Admiral Atheist has his defense against such silly notions," she remarked wryly.

He kissed her cheek. "Actually I do believe in something."

Slowly a warm smile sneaked across her face as she sat up straighter. "Oh? What do you believe in?"

"You," he answered before leaning in to kiss her tenderly.

They parted and she stood. "I suppose that means I should head back to CIC and watch as we reach Saturn Station."

"I thought you might want to be there," he added.

The station on the viewscreen seemed enormous as its circular, bicycle-like form drifted into view. It was decided that Abigail would come with Adama and Roslin in a Raptor, following the arrival of her security detail. The group waited in a room after leaving their respective vessels. From behind a glass window, they were greeted by a thin doctor with bushy dark hair and a polite smile. A small microphone was clipped to his lab coat for translating purposes.

"_Welcome to Saturn Station. I'm Dr. Hargrove. I see you have Dr. Baldwin with you. Chancellor Byron wishes to extend a welcome to all of you_," the doctor announced.

"_Will they be meeting with the chancellor soon_?" Abigail inquired.

The doctor glanced down at the electronic clipboard he held. "_In good time. First you all, including Dr. Baldwin, need to be decontaminated. Saturn Station is a medical research facility. Because we are the only station between what was Solaris Station and Earth, we need to decontaminate all of you first, and then you'll have physicals to make certain that none of you carry the blood virus_."

"_Do you need me to submit to a physical as well_?" the linguist asked.

"_We only need a blood test from you. We don't expect any of this to take long_," Hargrove responded.

From the room with the glass boundary, they were led through an air-tight door, into a room with a fog-like mist. "Is this part of the decontamination process, or are your environmental controls malfunctioning?" Adama asked Abigail.

She laughed. "It is part of the process, but I suppose it does look like we have a system malfunction. The particles in the room attract germs and things of that sort."

The next room resembled Life Station, but with much more up-to-date equipment: sophisticated computerized scanning devices, internal surgical lasers hooked to monitors, people in lab coats walking to and fro in the room in a rush if activity. "Do they have time for us?" Roslin asked.

Abigail nodded. "They want to give your whole fleet physicals. It will take some time, but they're preparing for a large group at a time."

Dr. Hargrove met her shortly after a nurse took her blood sample. "_Before you speak with the chancellor, you have a few guests_."

"_Whom_?" she inquired.

"_You'll have to follow me_," he replied.

Her blood test confirmed that she was healthy within ten minutes before she followed Hargrove into another room. As soon as she spotted the two people waiting for her, she gasped. "_James! Aurora! What are you two doing here_?"

"_We came with the chancellor_," her husband told her.

She closed the distance between then and kissed him fervently. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground in a secure embrace. "_James, I have missed you both so much_."

Then Abigail moved out of her husband's arms to hug her daughter. "_Aurora, I'm so glad to see you, poppet_."

"_Mum, where have you been? People said that aliens had captured you_!" the girl questioned.

Abigail brushed back her daughter's hair. "_When we return home, I have a great many stories to tell you_."

Her husband spoke again. "_Abbey, I was so worried. Thank goodness you're alright_." Abigail smiled and nodded. As she looked on her family a warm feeling spread through her. She had come home.

While Abigail was reunited with her family, Adama and Roslin were submitted to physicals. The blood test did not take long, though Hargrove himself spoke with them about it. "_You both have some strange anomalies in your bloodwork, but you don't have the virus_."

The rest of their physicals included a standard checking of the vitals and X-rays. "Are we finished now?" Adama asked as he shrugged his uniform top back on after the doctor had insisted on examining the status from his old open-heart surgery.

"_For the most part_," Hargrove relayed. Then he turned his attention to the president. "_Ma'am, are you aware of your condition_?"

"You mean do I know that I have cancer?" she pursued. "Yes, I'm aware of it."

"_We might be able to help you here_," he mentioned.

"That would be greatly appreciated," she responded.

Then they were led to another room where Abigail stood next to the man Adama had seen from the screen in his office. "Chancellor Byron I presume?" he asked, extending a hand.

The other man shook it. "_I am so privileged to meet you, Admiral Adama, Madame President. Though I was under the impression that the young man would be taking over the presidency_," Byron mentioned, moving to shake Roslin's hand.

"He still may. That depends on my health. Chancellor, what can you tell us of our possible status to your people?" she asked, fully the president in that moment.

Byron smiled at her question. "_Madame President, there is room enough for all of you on Earth, though placement has yet to be determined, as does the status of your government. We cannot simply give you a piece of land for over 30,000 people. I still have much to discuss with my government and I will have to get back to you on that one_."

"I understand. In the meantime, I believe that over 30,000 people need physicals?" she asked, facing Hargrove.

"_That is correct, Ma'am_," the doctor responded.

"_In that case, I shall speak with you again later. I have matters to discuss and relay to the people of Earth. If you will both excuse me_," Byron commented. The others nodded and he left.

"_Now, Ma'am, about your condition…_" Hargrove began.

"_Are you able to give her the cellular regeneration treatment_?" Abigail requested, looking to Hargrove.

The doctor looked from her to Adama and Roslin. "_Before I can recommend it, you need to know what you're getting yourself into_."

"Then please continue," the president responded.

"_There is an eighty-percent chance that it will work, but there's also a twenty-percent chance that it won't. Your immune system is a little different than ours. It may only work partially, or not at all_," Hargrove explained.

Adama cleared his throat. "What are the risks?"

Hargrove glanced at the charts in his hand again. "_I'm glad you asked that. We've been refining this technique for the last ten years. Aside from the procedure not working completely, the only other risk I can see is that some of her other cells may be mistaken for cancer cells and destroyed as well due to the difference in her immune system compared to someone who comes from Earth_."

"Doesn't sound much different than diloxin," Roslin muttered.

Adama watched her, then turned back to the doctor. "Would you excuse us a moment?"

"_Certainly_," Hargrove answered.

The admiral gently took Roslin's hands in his. "Laura, you don't have to do this."

She gave him a small smile. "Yes, I do."

He shook his head, his eyes meeting hers. "I'd rather have six months with you than none."

"I know. Bill, I'm not doing this for the presidency or the fleet. I'm not even doing this for myself. I want to do this for us. As unsettling as the risks sound, there's still an eighty-percent chance that it will work, and I want there to be an 'us.' I want to share a cabin with you by a lake. I want to give you as much time as I can," she told him, blinking off the tears that threatened to fall. With another quick breath, she was the president again in terms of composure.

Giving her hands another squeeze, he slowly nodded. "Okay."

They turned back to the doctor and he led them along the white hallway to another room where five rectangular units crowded the floor, wires protruding from them like strands of hair. Hargrove stepped over to one and pressed buttons on an elevated keypad. A split down the middle of the unit widened as the top became two doors.

Roslin's apprehension was written in her face as she stared at it, wide-eyed. "_I know it looks like a coffin, but it's not, I promise_," Hargrove mentioned. "_Now, Madame President, I need you to step inside and lie down. Admiral, no one can be in the room during the process, so you'll have to step outside with me. I'll take you to a waiting area after the process has begun_."

"Could you give us a minute?" Adama asked again. Hargrove nodded and stepped outside the door to wait.

"It'll be alright, Bill," Roslin said, more for her benefit than his.

He took another look at the rectangle and pulled her into a secure embrace. Then he moved a hand under her chin so that he could look into her eyes. "I love you."

"I love you too, I always will," she replied, touching his face.

His blue eyes stared at her pensively. "Deities, woman, you make it sound like 'goodbye.'"

She sniffed, but then smiled proudly. "This isn't 'goodbye.' This is 'I'll see you later,'" she remarked, kissing him softly.

A spark of mischief appeared in his eyes then. "No, this is 'I'll see you later,'" he told her before kissing her passionately.

They parted when out of oxygen, resting their foreheads together. "So say we all?" she whispered.

His lips brushed her forehead. "So say we all."

(My thanks to Calico Star, Mariel3, voodooDRUG, Ms. McGonagall, and carolann for reviewing :D)


	30. Making a house a home

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel. A quote about fairness was taken from Marcus Cole, Babylon 5, episode "A Late Delivery from Avalon." Also a comment from one of the A/R scenes in "Unfinished Business" is alluded to.

Chapter 30: Making a house a home

Hargrove led Adama to a waiting area with scratchy gray chairs. Then he pointed to a spot on the wall that looked as if a square section had been extracted from it. "_There are cups to the left of that. Just place the cup inside it and state whatever non-alcoholic beverage you want_."

"Will that device understand my language?" Adama inquired.

The doctor nodded. "_You speak a derivative of Ancient Greek. It should be able to deduce what you say. If not, ask the head nurse to help you_," he explained, pointing to a circular desk at which sat a rotund woman flipping through a magazine.

"You still have magazines?" the admiral asked.

"_Not on paper. Our current media is on electronic pads. All magazines like the one Barbara's reading are antiques. She collects them and what she's reading is an antique from the 1990's," Hargrove commented. Then he pointed to a table with a stack of electronic pads. "If you want reading material while you wait, we have it_."

Adama glanced at the pile. "Actually I was wondering if you had a way for me to contact my fleet, depending on how long this is going to take."

"_The procedure takes anywhere from two to eight hours, depending on the damage that the cancer has one. As for needing to contact your people, once again talk to Barbara_," Hargrove recommended. Then he turned to leave. "_Now if you will excuse me, I have a patient to tend to, your president_."

The admiral sighed, eyeing the piles of electronic pads again. _Two to eight hours? Looks like I'm going to be here for a while._ He lifted one of them, hoping to learn something about Earth's culture. The first three only told him about the latest celebrities featured in new holographic games. _I'll have to find out what those are when everything else settles down_. The next two told him where to buy environmentally safe hover cars. He glanced at his watch, noting with a groan that two hours had passed and he had not heard a word.

Standing, he headed over to the nurse Hargrove pointed out. "Excuse me, ma'am. Are you Barbara?"

The blonde stout nurse raised an eyebrow, turning her head to one side. Then she looked down and adjusted the translation microphone attached to her shirt. "_I'm sorry, sir. Would you please repeat that_?" Adama complied and she nodded. "_Yep, that's me. What can I do for you_?"

"Dr. Hargrove said that you could help me contact my fleet," Adama mentioned.

"_Sure. Come on back and I'll show you our communications setup_," she responded.

In the back room behind the desk she had been sitting at, a small computer seemed to rise up out of the desk like a wave, looking incredibly organic. She touched a few panels next to the screen and then handed him a small microphone. "_I've set it to audio-response. Just give it the basic frequency and it'll look for points to connect with_," she explained before leaving the room.

He did as she suggested and soon he heard his XO's voice. "Rest of the fleet's here now. They're waiting for orders, sir," the colonel stated.

"Tell them to hold their positions. We're going to follow the rules here and take fleet-wide physicals. Is there any word from the Quorum or Lee?" Adama inquired.

"They just want to know what our status is with the people of Earth. Want to start movin' in as soon as possible," Tigh remarked.

Adama chuckled lightly. "Tell them they've got a while before they start looking at real-estate."

"They want to hear it from the president," Tigh added.

Even from _Galactica_, Tigh could hear Adama's change in tone. "I don't know how soon she'll be available."

"How is Laura?" Tigh asked quietly.

Adama sighed heavily. "I won't know anything for probably several more hours."

After speaking with Tigh, Adama returned to the electronic pads. Aside from articles, the pads also included advertisements, like the magazines he remembered from the Twelve Colonies. Glancing at the ads, he spotted one of particular interest and walked back over to the nurse.

"Excuse me," he began, handing her the pad. "Do you know where this place is located?"

She took the pad and read the jewelry store advertisement. "_Sure do. That place is in Chicago, Illinois. Why_?"

"I need to buy a wedding ring," he admitted. Barbara smiled as she watched him resume his seat, deciding to print out a map for him.

Six hours had passed between the start of the procedure and the reappearance of Dr. Hargrove. Spotting him, Adama quickly stood, as if at attention. "Did it work?" he questioned.

Hargrove saw the other man's concern and sighed. "_We need to revive her. As far as I can tell from the readings, her cancer's gone, but sometimes it takes a bit longer for the actual body to revive_."

He motioned for the admiral to follow him. They reentered the room with the box-like units and Hargrove walked over to one of the consoles. "_It's pleasant to meet a people whose leaders have such concern for each other_," the doctor mentioned.

_I thought he saw us kissing. Maybe he didn't_. "Actually she's my wife," Adama mentioned.

Hargrove smiled before pushing a few buttons. The doors split open and Adama looked down at Roslin. She blinked, seeing him and the doctor. "Did it work?" she asked.

"_Take it slowly_," Hargrove told her, extending a hand.

She took it and he brought her out of the box. When she was standing on the regular floor, Adama took her hands in his. "Your cancer's gone," he told her with a broad grin.

"_That, and the scans indicate that you're healthy_," Hargrove added.

A beaming smile spread over Roslin's face as she and Adama hugged. Forgetting for a moment that the doctor was still watching them, Adama lifted her off her feat and spun her around once. She giggled, joy and relief at finally being rid of that horrid disease overpowering her usual sense of presidential decorum. _Together, for as long as time permits_, she mused, thinking about building a cabin. She gave him an affectionate kiss, which he returned before spotting the doctor out of the corner of his eye.

Roslin turned as well and spoke. "We can never thank you properly for doing this, nor do we have the means to pay you in anything except in sweaters or books," she paused as Hargrove smirked. "Is there anything we can offer you?"

Hargrove shook his head. "_The greatest gift for any physician is to see his patients thriving. All of your needs, and your fleet's medical needs, are on the house, as directed by Chancellor Byron_."

Adama and Roslin exchanged glances. "'On the house?'" they asked.

"_It's an expression. It means we're taking care of the bill_," Hargrove explained. "_Chancellor Byron would like to meet with your government soon. He's still on the station_."

The doctor led them back to the room in which they had met the chancellor. Byron smiled warmly at them. "_Admiral Adama, Madame President._ _Forgive me for being intrusive, but was the treatment successful_?"

Roslin and Adama both grinned as she spoke. "I'm cancer-free and healthy."

"_Marvelous. Do you feel up to discussing government matters now, or would tomorrow be better_?" Byron asked.

"Chancellor Byron, thank you for your consideration. It would probably be best to discuss them now," the president remarked.

He folded his hands in his lap. "_Very well then. I think that your government and mine should meet to find out exactly where we can place your people_."

Adama decided to add something. "I'm almost certain that none of my people would be carrying this virus you're looking for, but if some of them have negative blood types, will they still be able to live on Earth?"

"_A sensible question, Admiral. We have a vaccine to give them and after waiting a week with the vaccine, they should be able to join you on Earth_," Byron replied.

"Where should our government meet with yours?" Roslin inquired.

Byron thought for a moment. "_A conference in London would be acceptable_."

"We need to stop over in a place called Chicago first," Adama mentioned.

Roslin raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Adama showed her the map that Barbara had printed out for him. "I found an ad for a jewelry store. I owe you a descent wedding ring."

She smiled and kissed him softly. "It's alright, really. You don't have to do that."

"We're here, and they have resources. I don't need to hide the fact that you're my wife. So we tell the Quorum. We got them to Earth. They'll be more interested in that than in us," Adama persuaded.

Roslin chuckled lightly. "Alright. We'll get the ring first, and then we'll tell them."

They returned to the fleet and the London meeting was arranged. Wanting to follow Adama's plan, Roslin left Lee in charge of the Quorum until she and Adama would see them again in London. After the stop in Chicago, they stood in front of the Quorum. The delegates stood in a circle around their leaders as the group waited for the members of the United Coalition of Earth to arrive.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Roslin began, "We have finally reached our destination and I'm proud of all the efforts it took to get here. We have lost many people, family members, close friends," she paused for a moment of silence as the others dropped their heads. "We will not forget their sacrifices. And we have also gained, new friends, sometimes even new families," she held Adama's right hand with her right, "and now it is time that we renew our ties with our lost brothers and sisters of the Thirteenth Colony. They have welcomed us with open arms and I hope we can share our culture with them."

"Here, here," Lee shouted out.

Zarek sighed, still having remained in his old position as vice president. At first Roslin was worried that he might refute her speech. But then he smiled, looking from her, to Adama, to Lee, to the rest of the Quorum. "So say we all," he stated before clapping, setting an example that the other Quorum members quickly followed.

Roslin glanced at Adama again. "Before we meet with the other delegates, the admiral and I have one more announcement." She showed them the gold ring on her left hand with a diamond shaped like a rose. "We're married."

Almost immediately there was a murmur of discussion. To their relief, one of the other delegates shouted, "Took you two long enough," and the others chuckled.

The Earth delegates all welcomed the Colonials with handshakes as the proceedings began. It was decided that though they could not give the Colonials their own mass of land to call a country, they could give them 'nation within a nation status,' that if they wanted to retain citizenship to the Twelve Colonies, as well as the countries that they would be welcomed into, then the could do so. The Colonials would be moved mostly to Canada, Australia, and Russia, with smaller groups trickling into the United States and Europe.

Gaius Baltar stood at the second-story balcony sliding door of the apartment, staring out at the gray sky. He held a steaming blue mug of coffee in his hands. "I believe it's going to rain," he stated.

A snort from behind him caused him to turn as Sonya meandered into view. She set her black coffee mug down on the knotty pine end table to adjust the tie of her green bathrobe. "What was your first clue?"

He cracked the door open for a moment and then closed it again. "It smells like rain for one. And secondly, those clouds drifting in are definitely storm clouds."

She retrieved her mug and joined him at the sliding door. "Of all places, you had to pick one that gets this much rain. It's a good thing they gave us umbrellas for free."

Taking a sip of coffee, he faced her. "True. And we're not jobless. For some unfathomable reason, these people here wanted us working at with their new energy conservation fascilities."

"You sound about as excited about all this as I feel," she added.

He sighed, watching as a small flock of geese flew by. "It feels as though I'm living someone else's life."

Finishing off her coffee, she placed the mug back on the end table and crossed her arms. "That's because in a way we are. It's ironic that you and I are alive when so many good people are dead. People risked their lives for us, why? We don't deserve this," she paused to gesture around the apartment, "any of this."

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're right, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't continue living anyway. I used to think it was awful that life was so unfair. Then I thought, wouldn't it be much worse if life were fair, and all the terrible things that happen to us come because we actually deserve them? So, now I take great comfort in the general hostility and unfairness of the universe."

She snickered. "How long did it take you to come up with that speech?"

Glancing down, he replied, "Quite a while, actually."

"I hate to tell you this, but it needs work. I've heard better speeches from people selling who-knows-what on the _Prometheus_," she goaded him.

He scoffed, finishing his coffee, also setting it down on the end table. "You're just mad because you can't come up with anything better."

Turning to see his face, she grinned like someone holding a full house at a poker game. "Dr. I-need-the-president's-speech-writer, I can do better than you. Indeed life is unfair, but what does that mean for us? Do our shallow lives have value because others have deemed us worthy for sacrifice? Do we dare to think highly enough of ourselves to think of this as justice? Perhaps we ought to live our lives so that we can make a positive difference."

"Not bad. You might be onto something, but my speech was still better," he tossed back.

She rolled her eyes. "Apparently I need to pour some of that skin-melting acid over your ego."

"You'll never get away with it," he countered.

Smirking, she picked up her empty mug and then his, heading into the kitchen. "What are you going to do, tell the admiral?"

A breeze blew off of Lake Sinclair in Georgia, partly cooling the warm air of the afternoon. "You know Bill, I never thought I'd live to see this," Roslin told him, sitting on their porch swing.

Adama exited the house, closing the screen door behind him. "Just goes to show you, Laura, never give up hope." He had echoed her words at his promotion, which seemed so long ago, as he handed her a cold glass of ice tea and joined her on the porch swing, also holding a glass.

"Hmm," she paused as she took a long gulp. "It was wonderful for your crew to do this, building us a cabin."

"It was their way of saying 'thank you,' for bringing them to Earth," he replied, his gaze drifting to the black dragonfly that had taken up residence on the railing in front of him.

Roslin smiled, noticing the insect. "Look, it's Henry."

Adama snorted. "Are you naming them now? That's the one thing I wasn't prepared for when we landed, the bugs.

"I'm not naming all of them. That one just tends to sit in the same spot when he visits," she mentioned.

"How do you know it's even the same bug?" Adama asked, returning to his ice tea.

Roslin sighed and smirked at him. "Because he keeps coming back and hanging around you."

Adama shrugged. "Give me a few weeks and I'll find a real pet you can name."

"Only if it's a black dog," she informed him.

He smirked at her terms. "I'll see what I can do. In the meantime, what we brining to the wedding tomorrow again? With all the transfers from the fleet to Earth that we've been looking at, I forgot what we decided on."

She watched the dragonfly leave, darting out across the lake. "I'm trying to make one of those Earth dishes, something they call _potato salad_. Then we have the books you set aside for them. Of course there's the photo album too. And then you have that carved plaque that you've been looking for a chance to give him."

"I can't believe I forgot about that. I hope they like it," Adama stated, finishing off his ice tea.

"Why wouldn't they? It's a beautiful carving of that beach over in Hawaii," she reminded. Then she rested her hand on his forearm and gave him a warm smile. "You're his father. Anything from you will be special."

They had agreed to hold the wedding in Adama and Roslin's new backyard, with tall trees offering shade from the warm sun, as well as a beautiful setting. The local inhabitants had introduced them to foldable white chairs. The backyard was full of family and friends as Lee stood at the front by the priest.

Both Adama men watched the sliding door with anticipation, looking for the bride and Roslin. Unfortunately both were still in the bathroom trying to piece together the bride's outfit. Kara pulled unsuccessfully at the gold veil. "How do you put this frakkin' thing on? Yours was easier."

Her mother-in-law-to-be smiled politely. "That's because it's always easier when you put something on someone else instead of yourself."

"Fine, your logic beats mine any day. Now could I please have a little help here?" Kara grumbled, reaching behind her to push the zipper to her dress up with one hand. "Deities, this is too frakkin' tight."

Roslin finished setting the veil. "It shouldn't be. Wasn't it sized properly?"

Under the veil, Kara blushed as Roslin pushed the zipper up the rest of the way. "A month ago it would've been."

"What do you me- oh. Should I offer a double congratulations today then?" Roslin remarked.

"Just don't tell the 'Old Man.' Lee and I want to tell him after the reception. If he gets wind that we let it slip to you first, again, I'll never hear the end of it," Kara explained.

The older woman smiled, walking the blonde woman toward the door. "Your secret's safe with me."

Adama met Kara and walked her the rest of the way over to Lee. "Thanks sir," she whispered.

"The honor's mine," he replied with a fatherly smile.

Seeing that Kara had successfully reached her destination, Adama rejoined Roslin. "That's the same priest that married us," he said, looking over at them.

She nodded. "Poor man's back for more."

Adama smirked. "You don't think those two will stick with tradition?"

She had to bite her cheek to keep from telling him what she had already discovered. "When have those two been traditional? We are lucky to get them this far."

Her husband chuckled quietly, turning his attention back to his son and Kara. Lee grinned, pushing Kara's veil back. "Well Starbuck, now you can't say I don't finish what I start."

She smirked. "We'll see about that, Apollo."

"You look great," he remarked.

"I clean up well," she responded.

He shook his head. "You look beautiful," he whispered.

The priest cleared his throat. "If it's alright with you two, may we get on with the ceremony?"

"Sure," they answered simultaneously.

They joined hands, interlacing fingers as his father and step-mother had done. Then the priest took the white string, looping it first around Lee's wrist, then Kara's, and lastly tying their wrists together.

"This string represents the linear progression of the human lifespan. As you are joined now, may you also be joined in every aspect of your lives. May your love for each other grow, and may your lives prosper. Now, Major Lee Adama-"

"Actually, could you hold off on the rank please?" Lee requested.

He shrugged. "Like father, like son, I suppose. Alright, Lee Adama-"

Kara cleared her throat. "And could you put our call signs in between our first and last names? He's Apollo and I'm Starbuck, in case you weren't sure about that."

The priest nodded and sighed. "Without further interruption, Leland Apollo Adama, do you take this woman's hand in marriage, through famine or harvest, in frailty or health, for as long as time permits?"

"I will," the young man replied with conviction.

The priest nodded and then turned to Kara. "And do you, Kara Starbuck Thrace, take this man's hand in marriage, through famine or harvest, in frailty or health, for as long as time permits?"

"I will," she answered firmly and without hesitation.

"Your lives are now one," the priest told them as he untied the string. "I now present to the witnesses, Mr. and Mrs. Leland Adama," the priest announced. He opened his mouth to say his last line, but once again the bride and groom beat him to the punch as Lee wrapped his arms around Kara's waist, hers linked behind his neck, and they kissed passionately.

"Is anyone ever going to allow me to finish my ceremony?" the priest complained with a half-smile.

The guests laughed. "Perhaps such lines aren't necessary," Roslin told him.

After chairs were rearranged, food was brought out and the reception began. Kara and Lee were given gifts from several friends. Abigail had been able to attend and gave them a set of wine glasses, that they were not supposed to break, with gold-plated rims and a star pattern engraved in them. Cottle had found them glasses, that they could break, that were covered in blue Pokka-dots and shaped like squares. Tigh of course gave them his last bottle of Ambrosia, which to everyone's surprise, Kara told them would be opened later. It was then that Roslin noticed Kara was not drinking champagne.

When Lee and Kara received Adama and Roslin's gifts, both blinked away mist in their eyes. Kara walked over and hugged both of them. "Thanks sir, Madame Prez."

"One of these days you'll end up calling me 'Laura' and I'll be in shock," Roslin told her with a smile.

Lee hugged them as well. "Thanks, Dad. You didn't have to do any of this."

"You're our son, and now officially Kara's our daughter. That's all the reason we need," Adama conveyed.

At the reception's close, Lee and Kara lingered, asking Roslin and Adama to follow them into the kitchen. "We have something to tell you, sir," Kara began.

She glanced at Lee and he continued. "You and Laura are going to be grandparents."

Adama smiled broadly. "Congratulations."

Roslin followed suit, but afterward Adama caught her eye. "You knew, didn't you?" he asked her.

"I found out by accident," she admitted. He chuckled and they walked Lee and Kara to the door before returning to their cleanup duties.

Four months after the wedding, a package arrived at the door. Roslin opened it to find a man holding an electronic clipboard. "_You Laura Adama_?"

Not 'Madame President,' or even 'Roslin,' but 'Laura Adama.' She grinned. "Yes, I am."

"_Sign here please_," the man instructed.

Then he left and she inspected the package. Adama would be home soon, having spent a week on _Galactica_, preparing to pass it on to Tigh, who wanted to explore this Milky Way galaxy a bit before settling planet-side. The package was a pod-like metallic carrying device with a handle and what appeared to be its own environmental systems.

"What in the name of Pythia is this?" she wondered aloud.

A bark from the pod answered her question. She pushed a few buttons and two doors split open to reveal a black puppy. "Oh my goodness! What are you doing in there?"

She had not noticed Adama walking up the path to their front porch. "Kara met a friend who breeds them. The Earthers call it a '_Labrador_.' You said you wanted a black dog. I just didn't realize that they shipped animals that way."

A broad smile spread over Roslin's face as she looked back at him, holding the puppy in her arms. "Thank you."

He placed the pod at the end of the porch after looking it over for a moment to deactivate it. "I suppose you'll want to name it 'Digger' like the other one."

She walked over to him and kissed him softly. "That would be a little odd, considering that the pink string around its neck probably means that it's a girl." They walked around to the backyard and set the puppy down, watching as she sniffed the grass and began to explore the yard. "'Midnight' then," Roslin suggested.

His brow furrowed. "First of all, everything black gets named 'midnight,' and secondly, midnight looks more blue than black anyway."

She gave him the over-the-glasses look. "Fine. I've seen this candy called '_licorice_.' Maybe we could call her that."

"I will not have the family dog named after food," he remarked, sitting on one of their porch chairs.

Roslin sighed and joined him, shortly followed by the puppy. Like Digger, the puppy wanted to lie on top of her feet. "Perhaps 'Pythia' then?"

"That one might do," he replied.

"Naming pets is becoming as difficult as naming people. I wish Kara and Lee the best of luck," Roslin remarked.

Adama smirked. "At least they've decided against the Earth philosophers. It'd sound strange calling 'Sophocles' or 'Aristotle' in for dinner."

His wife laughed heartily. "Do you remember when they were considering artists? The last ones sounded normal at least."

"Zachary William or Laura Katherine, much better than Da Vinci or Van Gough for children," he agreed.

She reached for one of his hands and squeezed it. "I'm glad my term's almost up. Lee deserves a chance at being president."

"You just want to spend more time with the grandkids," Adama teased.

"Maybe you're right. Then again, I hear they're holding elections for a school district administrator," she mentioned.

He looked out at the lake in thought. "Of course a position like that leads to a person being the Secretary of Education, which leads right back to the president."

Chuckling, she nodded. "I might not be able to stay out of politics indefinitely, but I can try."

The familiar black dragonfly landed on the porch railing again. This time the puppy noticed its presence and jumped from Roslin's feet. It bounded over to the railing, startling the dragonfly. As the insect took flight, the puppy continued to follow it. Roslin stood, running after the puppy to keep her in the yard. "Pythia, stop chasing Henry!" she called out.

Adama chuckled, watching the scene in front of him with a warm smile. If this was how they were going to be spending the rest of their days, then he would not wish for anything more in this life. He stood, noticing that the dog and the dragonfly were heading closer to the lake, onto the small dock. "Laura, look out for the-" a splash told him that he was too late, "never mind."

He found her standing in the lake, the puppy paddling circles around her. "I suppose I needed to cool off anyway," she remarked, giggling.

"Want some help getting out?" he asked, stepping closer to the edge of the dock.

Seeing that mischievous glint in her eye, he was suddenly worried. "I've got a better idea," she stated, grabbing his ankle. "Why don't you join me?"

Trying to pull one ankle free, he lost his balance and fell into the lake with her. "That was sneaky. Now we're both soaked and still fully clothed," he scolded.

She grabbed his uniform lapels and kissed him deeply. "Whose fault is that?"

Fin…………………………………………..

(I'm sorry that it took me soooooooooo long to update! My muse was misbehaving and my computer kept overheating. My thanks to darth rat, kappaomega, Ms. McGonagall, Mariel3, carolann, gynji, Ceridwyn2, Ionel, BossaNovaBaby24, and voodooDRUG for reviewing. I have greatly appreciated all of your comments and compliments as you've joined me for this endeavor. I had no idea that this story would be so long. It just took on a life of its own. Once again, thank you :D)


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